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RIDDLE OP THE SANDS 



A BECOBD OF SEGBET SEBYICB 



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ERSKINE CTTTTiDEBg 

AimoB vw 'vK Tarn bmxi of warn oxt.*. 



WITH TWO MAPS AND TWO CHARTS 



NEW YOUK 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1916 



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PEEFAOE 






A WOBD about the origin and authorship of this book. 

In October last (1902), my friend ' Garruthers ' visited me 
in my chambers, and, under a provisional pledge of secrecy, 
told me frankly the whole of the adventure described in 
these pages. Till then I had only known as much as the 
rest of his friends, namely, that he had recently undergone 
experiences during a yachting cruise with a certain Mr. 
'Davies ' which had left a deep mark on his character and 
habits. 

At the end of his narrative — ^which, from its bearing on 
studies and speculations of my own, as well as from its in- 
trinsic interest and racy delivery, made a very deep impres- 
sion on me — ^he added that the important facts discovered 
in the course of the cruise had without a moment's 
delay been communicated to the proper authorities, who, 
after some dignified incredulity, due in part, perhaps, to 
the pitiful inadequacy of their own secret service, had, he 
believed, made use of them, to avert a great national danger. 
I say 'he beUeved,' for though it was beyond question that 
the danger was averted for the time, it was doubtful whether 
they had stirred a foot to combat it, the secret discovered 
being of such a nature that mere suspicion of it on this 
side was likely to destroy its efficacy. 



280760 



Ti THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

TherOi however that may be, the matter rested for ft 
while, as, for personal reasons which will be manifest to 
the reader, he and Mr. * Davies ' expressly wished it to rest. 

Bat political tendencies were driving them to reoonsides 
their decision. These showed with disastrous plainness that 
the information wrong with such peril and labour from the 
German Government and transmitted so promptly to our 
own had had none but the most transitory effect, if any, on 
our policy. On the contrary, some poisonous influence^ 
whose origin still baffles all but a very few, was persistently 
at work to drive back our diplomacy into paths which even 
> without this clarion warning they would be wise on principle 
to shun. As a drastic cure for what had come to be nothing 
less tiian a national disease, the two friends now had a 
mind to make their story public ; and it was about this that 
^ Oarruthers ' wished for my advice. The great drawback 
was that an Englishman, bearing an honoured name, was 
disgracefully implicated, and that unless infinite delicacy 
were used, innocent persons, and, especially, a young lady, 
would suffer pain and indignity, if his identity were known. 
Indeed troublesome rumours, containing a grain of truth i 
and a mass of falsehood, were already afloai 1 

After weighing both sides of the question, I gave my 
vote emphatically for publication. The personal drawbacks 
could, I thought, with tact be neutralised ; while, from the 
public point of view, the case was just one of those which 
unhappily occur with increasing frequency nowadays, when 
matters that properly should be confined to the seclusion of 
the statesman's study must perforce be removed from it 
and submitted to the common-sense of the country at 
large : a common-sense v^ch all thoughtful observers know 
to be growing, while statesmanship is declining. Con- 






PBEFAOB Tli 

spicuoTui proofs of this, the most striking featon in 
the growth of modem demooraoy, abound in our reoent 
history. 

Publication was agreed upon, and the next point was 
the form it should take. * Garrnthers,' with the oonourzenoe 
of Mr. 'Davies/ was for a bald exposition of the essential 
facts, stripped of their warm human envelope. I was 
strongly against this course, firstly, because it would 
aggravate instead of allaying the rumours that were current ; 
secondly, because in such a form the narrative would not 
carry conviction, and would thus defeat its own end. The 
persons and the events are indissolubly connected; to 
evade, abridge, suppress, would be to convey to the reader 
the idea of a concocted hoax. Indeed, I took bolder ground 
still, urging that the story should be made as explicit and 
circumstantial as possible, frankly and honestly for the 
purpose of entertaining and so attracting a wide circle of 
readers. Even anonymity was undesirable. Neverttieless 
certain precautions were imperatively needed. 

To cut the matter short, they asked for my assistance 
and received it at once. It was arranged that I should edit 
the book ; that ' Carruthers ' should give me his diary and 
recount to me in fuller detail and from his own point of 
view all the phases of the ' quest,' as they used to call it ; 
that Mr. ' Davies ' should meet me with his charts and 
maps and do the same, and that the whole story should be 
written, as from the mouth of the former, with its humours 
and errors, its light and its dark side, just as it happened ; 
with the following few limitations. The year it belongs to 
is disguised ; the names of persons are throughout fictitious, 
and at my instance certain slight liberties have been taken 
to conceal the identity of the English characters. 



I 



TlH 



THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



Bemember, also, that these persons are Uving now in the 
midst of us, and if you find one topic touched on with a 
light and hesitating pen, do not blame the Editor, who, 
whether they are known or not, would rather say too little 
than say a word that might savour of impertinence. 



March 190t. 



E.a 



NOTE 



Thb fzAgmentB of charts shown at pages 69 and 219 an 
reproductions, on a slightly reduced scale, and omitting some 
confusing and inelegant details, of British and Oerman 
Admiralty Charts. Space precludes the insertion of those 
bulky engrayings in full ; but the reader who wishes for 
fuller information is referred to Charts Nos. 406 and 407 of 
the British series, and to No. 64 of the Oerman series. 

The maps, namely, the frontispiece and that at page 141 
are necessarily on a very small scale ; but can be supple- 
mented by reference to standard publications. 



f ^1 



CONTENTS 



I. TBB LBTTSS . « 1 

n. THB ' DULGIBBLLA * •••.•••• 

m. DATIBS . • . U 

lir, BSTBOSPBOT • H 

▼. WANTED, A NORTH WIND ..... 44 

▼I. SOHLBt nOBD U 

Tn. THB MISSINa PAaB tl 

Tin. THB TBBOBT ••.,.... 7ft 

IX. X naN ABTZOLBS 88 

Z. HXB GHANOB • . • t8 

XX. TBB PATHFINDEB8 lOT 

XXX. mr INXTUTION IIT 

XXn. TBB MBANXNO OF OUB WOBX IS! 

ZXT. TBB nSST NIOBT IN THB XBLAND8 . • . 118 

XT. BBN8BB8BIL 144 

ZYX. OOmiANDBB YON BEiTNXNO IH 

XTH. OLBABING TBB AXB 118 

XTXn. XXPBBIAL BSOOBT • 188 

XXX. THXBUBIOON . • • 18f 

XX. THB LITTXA DBAB BOOK 881 



ifl THE BIDDLB OF THE 8ANDB 

OBAPRB PAM 

XXI. BLINDFOLD TO MBHUBBT • • • • • 911 

. THB QUABTBTTB SS» 

▲ OHANGB OF TAOTIOS UM 



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r. I DOUBLB BAOB • , 4 • t t • 174 

XXVI. THB 8BYBH 8IBL8 

XXyn. THB LUOX OF THB STOWAWAY t • • • 

WB AOHIBVB OUB DOUBLB ADf • • • • • IM 



BPILOaUB 



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LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS 

1. OBMBBAL MAP •«!... Fr<mUip%eo§ 

t. OHABT TO ILLUSTRATB THB STBANDING Of 

THB * DTTLOIBBLLA,' BTa • • . • To/a>e0p, 6t 

I. MAP OF BAST FBIB8LAKD . • • • h 141 

i, OHABT OF JUIST, MBIIKBBT, AND PABT OF 

KOBDBBNBT • • • • t • t m 919 



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EIDDIiE OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB I 

THB IiBTTBB 

I HAVB read of men who, when forced by their oftUing to 
live for long periods in utter solitade — save for a few black 
faces — ^have made it a rule to dress regularly for dinner in 
order to maintain their self-respect and prevent a relapse 
into barbarism. It was in some such spirit, with an added 
touch of self-consciousness, that, at seven o'clock in the 
evening of September 28 in a recent year, I was making 
my evening toilet in my chambers in Pall Mall. I thought 
the date and the place justified the parallel : to my advan- 
tage even ; for the obscure Burmese administrator might 
well be a man of blunted sensibilities and coarse fibre, and 
at least he is alone with nature, while I — well, a young 
man of condition and fashion, who knows the right people, 
belongs to the right clubs, has a safe, possibly a brilliant 
future in the Foreign Office, may be excused for a sense of 
complacent martyrdom, when, with his keen appreciation 
of the social calendar, he is doomed to the outer solitude of 
London in September. I say ' martyrdom,' but in fact the 
ease was infinitely worse. For to feel oneself a martyr, as 
everybody knows, is a pleasurable thing, and the true 
tragedy of my position was that I had passed that sta^a. 

B 



S THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

I had enjoyed what sweets it had to offer in ever dwindling 
degree sinoe the middle of August, when ties were still 
fresh and sympathy abundant I had been conscious that 
I was missed at Monren Lodge party. Lady Ashleigh 
herself had. said so in the kindest possible manner, 
when i^e wrote to acknowledge the letter in which I 
explained, with an effectively austere reserve of language, 
that circumstances compelled me to remain at my office. 
* We know how busy you must be just now/ she wrote, 
'and I do hope you won't overwork : we shall all miss 
you very much.' Friend after friend * got away ' to sport 
and fresh air with promises to write and chaffing con- 
dolences, and, as each deserted the sinking ship, I took a 
grim delight in my misery, positively almost enjoying the 
first week or two after my world had been finally dissipated 
to the four bracing winds of heaven. I began to take a 
spurious interest in the remaining five millions, and wrote 
several clever letters in a vein of cheap satire, indirectly 
suggesting the pathos of my position, but indicating that I 
was broad-minded enough to find intellectual entertainment 
in the scenes, persons, and habits of London in the dead 
season. I even did rational things at the instigation of 
others. For, though I should have liked total isolation 
best, I of course found that there was a sediment of un- 
fortunates like myself who, unlike me, viewed the situation 
in a most prosaic light. There were river excursions, and so 
on, after office-hours ; but I dislike the river at any time for 
its noisy vulgarity, and most of all at this season. So I 
dropped out of the fresh-air brigade and decUned H — 's 
offer to share a riverside cottage and run up to town in thp 
mornings. I did spend one or two week-ends with the 
Catesbys in Kent ; but I was not inconsolable when they 
let their house and went abroad, for I found that such 
partial compensations did not suit me. Neither did the 
taste for satirical observation last. A passing thirst, which 
I dare say many have shared, for adventures of the 




THE LETTEB 8 

fiisoinaiing kind described in the' New Arabian Nights ' led 

me on a few evenings into some shady hannts in Soho and 

further eastward; but was finally quenched one sultry 

Saturday night after an hour's immersion in the reeking 

atmosphere of a low music-hall in Batoliffe Highway, 

where I sat next a portly f enude who suffered from the heat» 

and at frequent intervals refreshed herself and an infant 

from a bottle of tepid stout. 

By the first week in September I had abandoned all 

paUiaiives and had settled into the dismal but dignified 

routine of ofiSce, club, and chambers. And now came the 

most cruel trial, for the hideous truth dawned on me that the 

world I found so indispensable could after all dispense with 

me. It was all very well for Lady Ashleigh to assure me 

that I was deeply missed ; but by a letter from F — , who was 

one of the party, written ' in haste, just starting to shoot,' and 

coming as a tardy reply to one of my cleverest, made me 

aware tiiat the house party had suffered little from my 

absence, and that few sighs were wasted on me, even in the 

quarter which I had assumed to have been discreetly 

fJluded to by the underlined all in Lady Ashleigh's 'we 

shall all miss you,' A thrust which smarted more, if it bit 

less deeply, came from my cousin Nesta, who wrote : * It's 

horrid for you to have to be baking in London now ; but» 

after all, it must be a great pleasure to you ' (malicious 

little wretch 1} 'to have such interesting and important 

work to do.' Here was a nemesis for an innocent illusion 

I had been accustomed to foster in the minds of my 

relations and acquaintances, especially in the breasts of the 

trustful and admiring maidens whom I had taken down to 

^dinner in the last two seasons ; a fiction which I had almost 

rea^Bhed the point of believing in myself. For the plain 

truth was that my work was neither interesting nor 

important, and consisted chiefly at present in smoking 

cigarettes, in saying that Mr. So-and-so was away and 

would be back about October 1, in being absent for lunch 

b2 



4 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

from twelve till two, and in my spare moments making 
pricis of — ^let us say — the less confidential consular reports, 
and squeezing the results into oast-iron schedules. The 
reason of my detention was not a cloud on the international 
horizon — though I may say in passing that there was such a 
cloud ; but a caprice on tiie part of a remote and mighty 
personage, the efifect of which, ramifying downwards, had 
dislocated the carefully laid holiday plans of the humble 
juniors, and in my own small case had upset the arrange- 
ment between mysdf and E — , who positively liked the 
dog-days in Whitehall. 

Only one thing was needed to fill my cup of bitterness, 
and this it was that specially occupied me as I dressed for 
dinner this evening. Two days more in this dead and 
fermenting city and my slavery would be at an end. Yes, 
but — ^irony of ironies ! — I had nowhere to go to 1 The 
Morven Lodge party was breaking up. A dreadful rumour 
as to <m engagement which had been one of its accursed 
fruits tormented me with the fresh certainty that I had not 
been missed, and bred in me that most desolating brand of 
cynicism which is produced by defeat through insignificance, 
biviiations for a later date which I had declined in July 
with a gratifying sense of being much in request, now rose 
up spectrally to taunt me. There was at least one which I 
could easily have revived, but neither in this case nor in 
any other had there been any renewal of pressure, and there 
are moments when the difference between proposing oneself 
and surrendering as a prize to one of several eagerly com- 
peting hostesses seems too crushing to be contemplated. 
My own people were at Aix for my father's gout ; to join 
them was a pis-aller whose banality was repellent. Besides, 
they would be leaving soon for our home in Yorkshire, <md 
I was not a prophet in my own country. In short, I waa 
at the extremity of depression. 

The usual preliminary scuffle on the staircase prepared 
me for the knock and entry of Withers. (One of the things 



THE LETTER * 

which had for some time ceased io amnse me was fche laxity 
of maimers, proper to the season, among the servants of 
the big block of chambers where I lived.) Withers demurely 
handed me a letter bearing a German post-mark and marked 
'Urgent.' I had just finished dressing, and was collecting 
my money and gloves. A momentary thrill of cariosity 
broke in upon my depression as I sat down to open ii A 
comer on the reverse of the envelope bore the blotted 
legend ' Very sorry, but there's one other thing, a pair of 
rigging screws from Garey and Neilson's, size If, gai' 
demised* Here it is : 

• Yacht "Dcdoibella," 
'Flensbarg, Sohleswig-Holstein, Sept. 21. 

' Dbab Oabbuthbbs, — I dare say you'll be surprised at 
hearing from me, as it's i^es since we met. It is more 
than likely, too, that what I*m going to suggest won't suit 
you, for I know nothing of your plans, and if you're in 
town at all you're probably just getting into harness again 
and can't get away. So I merely write on the offchance to 
ask if you would care to come out here and join me in a 
little yachting and, I hope, duck-shooting. I know you're 
keen on shooting, and I sort of remember that you have 
done somQ yachting too, though I rather forget about that. 
This part of the Baltic — the Schleswig fiords — ^is a splendid 
(aruising-ground — Al scene|7 — and there ought to be plenty 
of duck about soon, if it gets cold enough. I came out 
here vid Holland and the Frisian Islands, starting early in 
Aagusi My pals have had to leave me, and I'm badly in 
want of another, as I don't want to lay up yet for a bit. I 
needn't say how glad I should be if you could come. If 
you can, send me a wire to the P.O. here. Flushing and 
on by Hamburg will be your best route, I think. I'm 
having a few repairs done here, and wiU have them ready 
sharp by the time your train arrives. Bring your gun and 
ft good lot of No. 4's ; and would you mind calling at 



6 THE BIDDLB OP THE SANDS 

Lancaster's and asking for mine and bringing it too f 
Bring some oilskins. Better get the eleven-shilling sort 
jacket and trousers — not the '' yachting " brand ; and if yon 
paint bring your gear. I know you speak German like a 
native, and that will be a great help. Forgive this hail of 
directions, but I've a sort of feeling that I'm in luck and 
that you'U come. Anyway, I hope you and the F.O. both 
flourish. Good-bye. 

* Tours ever, 

'Abthub H. Davies. 

* Would you mind bringing me out a prismatic compasit 
and a pound of Baven mixture ? ' 

This letter marked an epoch for me ; but I little sus- 
pected the fact as I crumpled it into my pocket and started 
languidly on the voie dauhureuse which I nightly followed 
to the club. In Pall Mall there were no dignified greetings 
to be exchanged now with well-groomed acquaintances. 
The only people to be seen were some late stragglers from 
the park, with a perambulator and some hot and dusty 
children lagging fretfully behind ; some rustic sightseers 
draining the last dregs of the daylight in an effort to make 
out from their guide-books which of these reverend piles 
was which ; a policeman, and a builder's cart. Qt course 
the club wa^ a strange one, both of my own being closed 
for cleaningf a coincidence expressly planned by Providence 
for my inconvenience. The club which you are ' permitted 
to make us^of ' on these occasions always irritates with its 
strangenesa^'and discomfort. The few occupants seem odd 
and oddly dressed, and you wonder how they got there. 
The particular weekly that you want is not taken in ; the 
dinner is execrable, and the ventilation a farce. All these 
evils oppressed me to-night. And yet I was puzzled to find 
that somewhere within me there was a faint lightening of 
the spirits : causeless, as faar as I could discover. It could 
not be Davies's letter. Yachting in the Baltic at the end 



\ 



THE LETTEfi 7 

of September t The very idea made one shudder. OoweSj 
with a pleasant party and hotels handy, was all very well. 
An August cruise on a steam yacht in French waters or the 
Highlands was all very well ; but what kind of a yacht was 
this? It must be of a certain size to have got so far, 
but I thought I remembered enough of Davies's means to 
know that he had no money to waste on luxuries. That 
brought me to the man himself. I had known him at 
Oxford — ^not as one of my immediate set ; but we were a 
sociable college, and I had seen a good deal of him, liking 
him for his physical energy combined with a certain 
simplicity and modesty, though, indeed, he had nothing to 
be conceited about ; liked him, in fact, in tl;ie way that at 
that receptive period one likes many men whom one never 
keeps up with later. We had both gone down in the same 
year — three years ago now. I had gone to France and 
Germany for two years to learn the languages ; he had 
failed for the Indian Civil and then had gone into a 
solicitor's office. I had only seen him since at rare 
intervals, though I admitted to myself that for his part he 
had clung loyally to what ties of friendship there were 
between us. But the truth was that we had drifted apart 
from the nature of things. I had passed bjilliantly into 
my profession, and on the few occasions I had met him 
since I made my triumphant cUbut in society I had found 
nothing left in common between us. He seemed to know 
I none of my friends, he dressed indifferently, and I thought 
* him dull. I had always connected him with boats and the 
lea, but never with yachting, in the sense that I understood 
it. In college days he had nearly persuaded me into 
sharing a squalid week in some open boat he had picked up, 
and was going to sail among some dreary mud-flats some- 
where on the east coast. There was nothing else, and the 
funereal function of dinner drifted on. But I found myself 
remembering at the entrie that I had recently heard at 
second or third hand of something else about him— exactly 



', 

r^ 



8 THE RIDDLE OP THE BANDS 

what I could not recalL When I reached the savouiy, I 
had concluded, so far as I had centred my mind on it at 
all, that the whole thing was a culminating irony, as, 
indeed, was the savoury in its way. After the wreck of my 
pleasant plans and the fiasco of my martyrdom, to he asked 
as consolation to spend October freezing in the Baltic with 
an eccentric nonentity who bored me ! 

Yet, as I smoked my cigar in the ghastly splendour of 
the empty smoking-room, the subject came up again. 
Was there anything in it? There were certainly no 
alternatives at hand. And to bury myself in the Baltic at 
this unearthly time of year had at least a smack of tragic 
thoroughness about it. 

I pulled out the letter again, and ran down its 
impulsive staccato sentences, affecting to ignore what a 
gust of fresh air, high spirits, and good fellowship this 
flimsy bit of paper wafted into the jaded club-room. 
On re-perusal, it was full of evil presage — ' A 1 scenery ' 
— but what of equinoctial storms and October fogs? 
Every sane yachtsman was paying off his crew now. 
'There ought to be duck '-—vague, very vague. *If it 
gets cold enough'— cold and yachting seemed to be a 
gratuitously monstrous union. His pals had left him: 
why ? * Not the " yachting " brand * ; and why not ? As 
to the size, comfort, and crew of the yacht — ^aU cheerfully 
ignored ; so many maddening blanks. And, by the way, 
why in heaven's name * a prismatic compass ? ' I fingered 
a few magazines, played a game of fifty with a friendly old 
fogey, too importunate to be worth the labour of resisting, 
and went back to my chambers to bed, ignorant that a 
friendly Providence had come to my rescue ; and, indeed, 
rather resenting any clumsy attempt at such friendliness. 



\ 

1 



CHAPTEB n ' 

THB < DULOIBBLLA ' 

That two days later I should be found padfig the deck of 
the Flushing steamer with a ticket for Hamburg in my 
pocket may seem a strange result, yet not so strange if you 
have divined my state of mind. Tou will guess, at any 
rate, that I was armed with the conviction that I was doing 
an act of obscure penance, rumours of which might call 
attention to my lot and perhaps awaken remorse in the 
right quarter, while it left me free to enjoy myself unob- 
trusively in the remote event of enjoyment being possible. 

The fact was that, at breakfast on the morning after the 
arriv^ of the letter,. I had still found that inexplicable 
lightening which I mentioned before, and strong enough 
now to warrant a revival of the pros and cons. An iinpor- 
tant pro which I had not thought of before was that after 
all it was a good-natured piece of unselfishness to join 
Davies ; for he had spoken of the want of a pal, and 
seemed honestly to be in need of me. I almost clutched 
at this consideration. It was an admirable excuse, when 
I reached my office that day, for a resigned study of the 
Continental Bradshaw, and an order to Garter to unroll a 
great creeking wall-map of Germany and find me Flens« 
burg. The latter labour I might have saved him, but it 
was good for Carter to have something to do; and his 
patient ignorance was amusing. With most of the map 
and what it suggested I was tolerably familiar, for I had 



10 THE EIDDLB OF THE' SANDS 

not wasted my year in Germany, whatever I had done ox 

not done since. Its people, history, progress, and future 

^^ to.™.W ™ b,C, .ndl lf.m Mend, M 

Vresden and Berlin. Flensburg recalled the Danish war 
> of '64, and by the time Garter's researches had ended in 
^ success I had forgotten the task set him, and was wonder- 
ing whether the prospect of seeing something of that lovely 
region of Schleswig-Holstein,^ as I knew from hearsay that 
it was, was at all to be set against such an uncomfortable 
way of seeing it, with the season so late, the company so 

^tnattractive, and all the other drawbacks which I counted 
and treasured as proofs of my desperate condition, if I were 
to go. 

It needed Uttle to decide me, and I think E-r-'s 
arrival from Switzerland, offensively sunburnt, was the 
finishing touch. His greeting was ' Hullo, Garruthers, you 
here ? Thought you had got away long ago. Lucky devil, 
though, to be going now, just in time for the, best driving 
and the early pheasants. The heat's been shocking out 
there. Garter, bring me a Bradshaw ' — (an extraordinary 
book, Bradshaw, turned to from habit even when least 
wanted, as men fondle guns and rods in the cl6se season). 

By lunch-time the weight of indecision had been 
removed, and I found myself entrusting Garter with a 
telegram to Davies, P.O., Flensburg. ' Thanks ; expect 
me 9.84 p.m. 26th ' ; which produced, three hours later, 
a reply: ^Delighted; please bring a No. 8 Bippingill 
stove' — ^a perplexing and ominous direction,. which some- 
how chilled me in spite of its subject-matter. 

Indeed, my resolution wai continually faltering. It 
faltered when I turned out my gun in the evening and 
thought of the grouse it ought to have accounted for. It 
faltered again when I contemplated the miscellaneous list 
of commissions, sown broadcast throifgh Davies's letter, to 
fulfil which seemed to make me a wiUing tool where my 

* Bee frontispiece. 



THE -'DULOIBELLA' 11 

obosen rdle was that of an embittered exile, or ail least a 
oondescending ally. However, I boed the oonunidlioxui 
manf ally, after leaving the office. m^ 

At Lancaster's I inquired for his gon, was received^ 
coolly, and had to pay a heavy bill, which it seemed to have ' 
incurred, before it was handed over. Having ordered the* 
gun and No. 4's to be sent to my chambers, I bought the 
Baven mixture with that peculiar sense of injury which 
the prospect of smuggling in another's behalf always entails; 
and wondered where In the world Carey and Neilson's was, a 
firm which Davies spoke of as though it were as well known 
as the Bank of England or the Stores, instead of specialising 
in * rigging-screws,' whatever they might be. They sounded 
important, though, and it would be only politic to unearth 
them. I connected them with the 4ew repairs,' and awoke 
new misgivings. At the Stores I asked for a No. 8 
BippingiU stove and was confronted with a formidable 
and hideous piece of ironmongery, which burned petro- 
leum in two capacious tanks, horribly prophetic of a;jmell 
of warm oil ; I paid for this miserably, convinced of its 
grim efficiency, but speculating as to the domestic conditions 
which caused' it to be sent for as an afterthought by tele- 
gram. I also asked about rigging-screws in the yachting 
department, but learnt that they were not kept in stock ; 
that Carey and Neilson's would certainly have them, and 
that their shop was in the Minories, in ttie far east, mean- 
ing a journey nearly as long as to Flensburg, and twice as 
tiresome. They would be shut by the time I got there, so 
after this exhausting round of duty I went home in a cab, 
omitted dressing for dinner 4(an epoch in itself), ordered a 
chop up from the basement kitchen, and spent the rest of 
the evening packing and writing with the methodical gloom 
of a man setting hii^affairs in order for the last time. 

The last of those airless nights passed. The astonished 
Withers saw me breakfasting at 8, and at 9.80 I was 
vacantly examining rigging-screws with what wits were left 



^ 



12 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

me after a sulphurous ride in the underground to Aldgate. 
I laid great stress on the f's, and the galvanism, and took 
them in trusty ignorant as to their functions. For the eleven- 
shilling oilskins I was referred to a villainous den in a back 
street, which thd shopman said they always recommended, 
and where a dirty and bejewelled Hebrew chaffered with me 
(beginning at I85.) over two reeking orange slabs distantly 
resembling moieties of the human figure. Their odour 
made me close prematurely for 145., and I hurried back (for 
I was due there at 11) to my office with my two disrepu* 
table brown-paper parcels, one of which made itself so 
noticeable in the close official air that Carter attentively 
asked if I would like to have it sent to my chambers, and 
E — was inquisitive to bluntness about it and my movements. 
But I did not care to enlighten E — , whose comments I knew 
would be provokingly envious or wounding to my pride in 
some way. 

I remembered, later on, the prismatic compass, and 
wired to the Minories to have one sent at once, feeling 
rather relieved that I was not present there to be cross* 
examined as to size and make. The reply was 'Not 
stocked: try surveying-instrument maker' — ^a reply both 
puzzling and reassuring, for Davies's request for a compass 
had given me more uneasiness than anything , while, to find 
that what he wanted turned out to be a surveying-instrument, 
was a no less perplexing discovery. That day I made my 
last pricis and handed over my schedules — Procrustean beds, 
where unwilling facts were stretched and tortured — ^and 
said good-bye to my temporary chief, genial and lenient 
M — , who wished me a jolly hoUday with all sincerity. 

At seven I was watching a cab packed with my personal 
luggage and the collection of unwieldy and incongruous 
packages that my shopping had drawn down on me. Two 
deviationfi after that wretched prismatic coapasa — which I 
obtained in the ehd second-hand, faute de mieux, near 
Victoria, at one of those showy shops which look like 




THE 'DULOIBELLA' 18 

Jewellers' naii aze really pawnbrokers' — nearly eansed me to 
miss my. train. But at 8.80 I had shaken off the dust of 
London from my feet, aoid at 10.80 I was, as I have an- 
nounced, paoing|the deok of the Flushing steamer, adrift 
on this fatuous holiday in the far Baltic 

An air from the west, cooled by a midday thunderstorm, 
followed the steamer as she slid through the calm ohanneb 
of the Thames estuary, passed the cordon of scintillating 
lightships that watch over the sea-roads to the imperial 
city like pickets round a sleeping army, and slipped out into 
the dark spaces of the North Sea. Stars were bright, 
summer scents from the Kent clifEs mingled coyly with 
▼ulgar steamer-smells ; the summer weather held immutably. 
Nature, for her part, seemed resolved to be no party to my 
penance, but to be imperturbably bent on shedding mild 
ridicule over my wrongs. An irresistible sense of peace 
and detachment combined with that delicious physical 
awakening that pulses through the nerye-sick townsman 
when city airs and bald routine are left behind him, com- 
Imied to provide me, however thankless a subject, with a 
solid background of resignation. Stowing this safely away, 
I could calculate my intentions with cold egotism. If the 
weather held I might pass a not intolerable fortnight with 
Davies. When it broke up, as it was sure to, I could easily 
excuse myself from the pursuit of the problematical ducks ; 
the wintry logic of facts would, in any case, decide him to 
lay up his yacht, for he would scarcely think of sailing home 
at such a season. I could then take a chance lying ready 
of spending a few weeks in Dresden or elsewhere. I settled 
this programme comfortably and then turned in. 

From Flushing eastward to Hamburg, then northward 
to Flensburg, I cut short the next day's sultry story. Past 
dyke and windmill and still canals, on to blazing stubbles 
md roaring towns ; at the last, after dusk, through a quiet 
level region where tiiie train pottered from one lazy little 
station to another, and at ten o'clock I found myself, stiff and 



14 THE BEDDLE OF THE SANDS 

uixdtj, on the platform at Flensborg, exobanging greetingf 
with Davies. 

* It's awfully good of yoa to oome.' 

* Not at all ; it's very good of you to ask me.' 

We were both of us ill at ease. Even in the dim gas- 
light he clashed on my notions of a yachtsman^no oool 
white ducks or neat blue serge ; and where was the snowy- 
crowned yachting cap, that precious charm that so easily 
converts a landsman into a dashing mariner ? Conscious 
that this impressive uniform, in high perfection, was lying 
r^y in my portmanteau, I felt oddly guilty. He wore an 
old Norfolk jacket, muddy brown shoes, grey flannel trou* 
sers (or had they been white?) and an ordinary tweed 
cap. The hand he gave me was horny, and appeared to be 
stained with paint ; the other one, which carried a parcel, 
had a bandage on it which would have borne renewal. 
There was an instant of mutual inspection. I thought he 
gave me a shy, hurried scrutiny as though to test past con- 
jectures, with something of anxiety in it, and perhaps (save 
the mark !) a tinge of admiration. The face was familiar 
and yet not familiar ; the pleasant blue eyes, open, clean- 
cut features, unintellectual forehead were the same ; so were 
the brisk and impulsive movements ; there was some change ; 
but the moment of awkward hesitation was over and the 
light was bad ; and, while strolling down the platform for 
my luggage, we chatted with constraint about trivial things. 

* By the way,' he suddenly said, laughing, ' I'm afraid 
I'm not fit to be seen ; but it's so late it doesn't matter. 
I've been painting hard all day, and just got it finished. I 
only hope we shall have some wind to-morrow — ^it's been 
hopelessly calm lately. I say, you've brought a good deal 
of stuff,' he concluded, as my belongings began to collect. 

Here was a reward for my submissive exertions in tiie 
far east ! 

< Tou gave me a good many commissions 1 ' 

'Oh, I didn't mean those things,' he said absently. 



THE « DULOIBELLA • 15 

'Thanks for bringing them, by the way. That's the stoTS, 
I suppose ; cartridges this one, by the weight. Ton got 
the rigging-screws all right, I hope? They're not really 
necessary, of course ' (I nodded vacantly, and felt a little 
hurt) ; < but they're simpler than lanyards, and you can't 
get them here. It's that portmanteau,' he said slowly, 
measuring it with a doubtful eye. ' Never mind ! we'll 
try. You couldn't do with the Gladstone only, I suppose? 
Tou see, the dinghy — ^h'm, and there's the hatchway toot 
— ^he was lost in thought. * Anyhow, let's try. I'm afraid 
there are no cabs, but it's quite near, and the porter'U 
help.' 

Sickening forebodings crept over me, while Davies 
shouldered my Gladstone and clutched at the parcels. 

' Aren't your men here ? ' I asked &intly. 

* Men ? ' — ^he looked confused. ' Oh, perhaps I ought to 
have told you, I never have any paid hands ; it's quite a 
small boat, you know — I hope you didn't expect luxury. 
I've managed her single-handed for some time. A man 
would be no use, and a horrible nuisance.' He revealed 
these appalling truths with a cheerful assurance, which did 
nothing to hide a naive apprehension of their e£Eect on me. 
There was a check in our mobilisation. 

' It's rather late to go on board, isn't it ? ' I said, in a 
wooden voice. Some one was turning out the gas-lights ; 
and the porter yawned ostentatiously. ' I think I'd rather 
sleep at an hotel to-nighi' 

A strained pause. 

Oh, of course you can do that, if you like,' said Davies, 
in transparent distress of mind. 'But it seems hardly 
worth while to cart this stuff all the way to an hotel (I 
believe they're all on the other side of the harbour), and 
back again to the boat to-morrow. She's quite comfortable, 
and you're sure to sleep well, as you're tired.' 

' We can leave the things here,' I argued feebly, ^ and 
walk over with my bag.' 



18 THE BIDDLE OP THE BANDS 

' Oh, I shall have to go aboard anyhow,' he rejoinod ; 'I 
never sleep on shore/ 

He seemed to be dinging timidly, but desperately, to 
some diplomatic end. A stony despair was invading me 
and paralysing resistance. Better face the worst and be 
done with it. 

* Gome on,' I said grimly. 

Heavily loaded, we stumbled over railway lines and 
rabble heaps, and came on the harbour. Davies led the 
Way to a stairway, whose weedy steps disappeared below in 
gloom. 

' If you'll get into the dinghy,' he said, all briskness 
now, ' I'll pass the things down.' 

I descended gingerly, holding as a guide a sodden 
painter which ended in a small boat, and conscious that 1 
was collecting slime on cuffs and trousers. 

' Hold up ! ' shouted Davies cheerfully, as I sat' down 
suddenly, near the bottom, with one foot in the water. 

I climbed wretchedly into the dinghy and awaited 
events. 

' Now float her up close under the quay wall, and make 
fast to the ring down there,' came down from above» 
followed by the slack of the sodden painter, which knocked 
my cap off as it felL * All fast ? Any knot'll do,' I heard, 
as I grappled with this loathsome task, and then a big dark 
object loomed overhead and was lowered into the dinghy. 
It was my portmanteau, and, placed athwart, exactly filled 
all the space amidships. ^ Does it fit? ' was the anxious 
inquiry from aloft. 

« Beautifully.' 

* Capital ! ' 

Scratching at the greasy wall to keep the dinghy close 
to it, I received in succession our stores, and stowed the 
cargo as best I could while the dinghy sank lower and 
lower in the water, and its precarious superstructure grew 
higher. 



THE •DULCIBELLA^ IT 

' Gatoh ! ' was the final direction from above, and a 
damp soft parcel hit me in the chest. 'Be careful of that, 
it's meat. Now back to the stairs ! ' 

I painfully acquiesced, and Davies appeared. 

' It's a bit of a load, and she's rather deep : but I think 
we shall manage,' he reflected. ' You sit right aft and I'll 
row.' 

I was too far gone for curiosity as to how this mon- 
strous pyramid was to be rowed, or even for surmises aa 
to its foundering by the way. I crawled to my appointed 
seat, and Dayies extricated the buried sculls by a series 
of tugs, which shook the whole structure, and made us 
roll alarmingly. How he stowed himself into rowing 
posture I have not the least idea, but eventually we were 
moving sluggishly out into the open water, his head 
just visible in the bows. We had started from what 
appeared to be the head of a narrow loch, and were leaving 
behind us the lights of a big town. A long frontage of 
lamp-Ut quays was on our left, with here and there the 
vague hull of a steamer alongside. We passed the last of 
the lights and came out into a broader stretch of water, 
when a Ught breeze was blowing and dark hills could be 
seen on either shore. 

* I'm lying a little way down the fiord, you see,' said 
Davies. ' I hate to be too near a town, and I found a 

carpenter handy here There she is! I wonder how 

you'll like her ! ' 

I roused myself. We were entering a little cove 
encircled by trees, and approaching a light which flickered 
in the rigging of a small vessel whose outline gradually 
defined itself. 

' Keep her off,' said Davies, as we drew alongside. 

In a moment he had jumped on deck, tied the painter, 
and was round at my end. 

<Tou hand them up,' he ordered, 'and I'll take them.' 

It was a laborious task, with the one relief that it was 





18 THE RIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

not tax to hand them — a doubtfnl compensation, for other 
tMBons distantly shaping themselves. When the stack 
was transferred to the dedt, I followed it, tripping over the 
flabby meat parcel, which was already showing ghastly 
signs of disintegration under the dew. Hazily there floated 
through my mind my last embarkation on a yacht : my 
faultless attire, the trim gig and obsequious sailors, the 
accommodation ladder flashing with varnish and brass in 
the August sun ; the orderly snowy decks and basket chairs 
under the awning aft. What a contrast with this sordid 
midnight scramble, over damp meat and littered packing- 
cases ! The bitterest touch of all was a growing sense of 
inferiority and ignorance, which I had never before been 
allowed to feel in my experience of yachts. 

Davies awoke from another reverie over my portmanteau 
to say cheerily : ' I'll just show you round down below first, 
and then we'll stow things away and get to bed.' 

He dived down a companion ladder, and I followed 
cautiously. A complex odour of paraffin, past cookery, 
tobacco, and tar saluted my nostrils. 

' Mind your head,' said Davies, striking a match and 
lighting a candle, while I groped into the cabin. * You'd 
better sit down ; it's easier to look round.' 

There might weU have been sarcasm in this piece of 
advice, for I must have cut a ridiculous figure, peering 
awkwardly and suspiciously round, with shoulders and head 
bent to avoid the ceiling, which seemed in the half-light to 
be even nearer the floor than it was. 

'Tou see,' were Davies's reassuring words, 'there's 
plenty of room to Ut upright ' (which was strictly true ; 
but I am not very ta]l, and he is short). ' Some people 
make a point of head-room, but I never mind much about 
it. That's the centre-board case,' he explained, as, in 
stretching my legs out, my knee came into contact with 
a sharp edge. 

I had not seen this devilish obstruction, as it was hidden 



THE -DULOIBELLA' 19 

beneath the table, which indeed rested on it at one end. It 
appeared to be a long low triangle, running lengthways with 
the boat and dividing the naturally limited space into two. 

' You see she's a flat-bottomed boat, drawing very little 
waier without the plate ; that's why there's so little head- 
room. For deep water you lower the plate ; so, in one way 
or another you can go practically anywhere.' 

I was not nautical enough to draw any very definite 
conclusions from this, but what I did draw were not 
promising. The latter sentences were spoken from the 
forecastle, whither Davies had crept through a low sliding 
door, like that of a rabbit-hutch, and was already busy 
with a kettle over a stove which I made out to be a lettered 
and disreputable twin brother of the No. 8 Bippingill. 

'It'll be boiling soon,' he remarked, 'and we'll have 
some grog.' 

My eyes were used to the Ught now, and I took in the 
rest of my surroundings, which may be very simply 
described. Two long cushion-covered seats fliuiked the 
cabin, bounded at the after end by cupboards, one of which 
was cut low to form a sort of miniature sideboard, with 
glasses hung in a rack above it. The deck overhead was 
very low at each side but rose shoulder high for a space in 
the middle, where a ' coach-house roof ' with a skylight gave 
additional cabin space. Just outside the door was a fold- 
up washing-stand. On either wall were long net-racks 
holding a medley of flags, charts, caps, cigar-boxes, hanks 
of yarn, and such-like. Across the forward bulkhead was a 
bookshelf crammed to overflowing with volumes of all 
sizes, many upside down and some coverless. Below this 
were a pipe-rack, an aneroid, and a clock with a hearty tick. 
All the woodwork was painted white, and to a less jaundiced 
eye than mine the interior might have had an enticing 
look of snugness. Some Kodak prints were nailed roughly 
on the after bulkhead, and just over the doorway was the 
photograph of a young girl. 



10 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

' That's my sister/ said Davies, who had emerged and 
saw me looking at ii 'Now, let's get the stuff down.' 
He ran up the ladder, and soon my portmanteau blackened 
the hatchway, and a great straining and squeezing began. 
' I was afraid it was too big,' came down ; ' I'm sorry, but 
you'll have to unpack on deck — ^we may be able to squash 
it down when it's empty.' 

Then the wearisome tail of packages began to form a 
fresh stack in the cramped space at my feet, and my back 
ached with stooping and moiling in unfamiliar places. 
Davies came down, and with unconcealed pride introduced 
me to the sleeping cabin (he called the other one 'the 
saloon '). Another candle was lit and showed two short 
and narrow berths with blankets, but no sign of sheets; 
beneath these were drawers, one set of which Davies made 
me the master of, evidently thinking them a princely allow- 
ance of space for my wardrobe. 

< You can chuck your things down the skylight on to 
your berth as you unpack them,' he remarked. 'By the 
way, I doubt if there's room for all you've got. I suppose 
you couldn't manage ' 

' No, I couldn't,' I said shortly. 

The absurdity of argument struck me: two men, 
doubled up like monkeys, cannot argue. 

' If you'll go out I shall be able to got out too,' I added. 
He seemed miserable at this ghost of an altercation, but I 
pushed past, mounted the ladder, and in the expiring moon- 
light unstrapped that accursed portmanteau and, brimming 
over with irritation, groped among its contents, sorting 
some into the skylight with the same feeling that nothing 
mattered much now, and it was best to be done with it ; 
re-packing the rest with guilty stealth ere Davies should 
discover their character, and strapping up the whole 
again. Then I sat down upon my white elephant and 
shivered, for the chill of autumn was in the air. It 
suddenly struck me that if it had been raining things might 



THE ' DULOIBELLA ' 21 

have been worse still. The notion made me look xoond. 
The little oove was still as glass; stars above and stars 
below ; a few white oottages glimmering at one point on 
the shore ; in the west the Ughts of Flensburg ; to the 
east the fiord broadening into unknown gloom. From 
Dayies toiling below there were mnfi9ed sounds of wrench- 
ing, pushing, and hammering, punctuated occasionally by a 
heavy splash as something shot up from the hatchway and 
fell into the water. 

How it came about I do not know. Whether it was 
something pathetic in the look I had last seen on his face — 
a look which I associated for no reason whatever with his 
bandaged hand; whether it was one of those instants of 
dear vision on which our separate selves are seen divided, 
the baser from the better, and I saw my silly egotism in 
contrast with a simple generous nature ; whettier it was an 
impalpable air of mystery which pervaded the whole enter- 
prise and refused to be dissipated by its most mortifying 
and vulgarising incidents — a mystery dimly connected with 
my companion's obvious consciousness of having misled 
me into joining him ; whether it was only the stars and 
the cool air rousing atrophied instincts of youth and spirits : 
probably, indeed, it was all these influences, cemented into 
strength by a ruthless sense of humour which whispered 
that I was in danger of making a mere common-place fool 
of myself in spite of all my laboured calculations; but 
whatever it was, in a flash my mood changed. The crown 
of martyrdom disappeared, the wounded vanity healed; 
that precious fund of fictitious resignation drained away 
but left no void. There was left a fashionable and dis- 
hevelled young man sitting in the dew and in the/ dark on 
a ridiculous portmanteau which dwarfed the yacht that was 
to carry it, a youth acutely sensible of ignorance in a 
strange and strenuous atmosphere ; still feeling sore and 
victimised ; but withal sanely ashamed and sanely resolved 



22 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

to enjoy himself. I anticipate; for though the change 
was radical its full growth wae slow. But in any case it 
was here and now that it took its birth. 

' Grog's ready ! ' came from below. Bunching myself 
for the descent I found to my astonishment that all trace 
of litter had miraculously vanished, and a cosy neatness 
reigned. Glasses and lemons were on the table, and the 
fragrant smell of punch had deadened previous odours. I 
showed Uttle emotion at these amenitieSi but enough to 
give intense relief to Davies, who delightedly showed me 
his devices for storage, praising the ' roominess ' of his 
floating den. 'There's your stove, you see,' he ended, 
' I've chucked the old one overboard.' It was a weakness 
of hib, I should say here, to rejoice in throwing things 
overboard on the flimsiest pretexts. I afterwards suspected 
that the new stove had not been 'really necessary' any 
more than the rigging-screws, but was an excuse for 
gratifying this curious taste. 

We smoked and chatted for a little, and then came the 
problem of going to bed. After much bumping of knuckles 
and head and many giddy writhings I mastered it and lay 
between the rough blankets. Davies moving swiftly and 
deftly was soon in his. 

' It's quite comfortable, isn't it ? ' he said, as he blew 
out the light from where he lay, with an accuracy which 
must have been the fruit of long practice. 

I felt prickly all over, and there was a damp patch on 
the pillow, which was soon explained by a heavy drop of 
moisture falling on my forehead. 

* I suppose the deck's not leaking 9 ' I said, as mildly 
as I could. 

'I'm awfully sorry,' said Davies, earnestly, tumbling out 
of his bunk. ' It must be the heavy dew. I did a lot of 
eauUdng yesterday, but I suppose I missed that place. I'll 
run up and square it with an oilskin.' 



THE 'DULOIBELLA' » 

* What's wrong with your hand ? ' I asked sleeply on 
his return, for gratitude reminded me of that bandage. 

* Nothing much ; I strained it the other day,' was thd 
reply ; and then the seemingly inconsequent remark : ' I'm 
glad you brought that prismatic compass. It's not really 
necessary, of course ; but ' (muffled by blankets) * it may 
come in usefuL' 



24 THB BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB m 
DAVnsa 

I DOZBD but fitfully, with a fretful sense of sore elbows and 
neok imd many a draughty hiatus among the blankets. It 
was broad daylight before I had reached the stage of torpor 
in which such slumber merges. That was finally broken 
by the descent through the skylight of a torrent of water. 
I started up, bumped my head hard against the decks, and 
Uinked leaden-eyed upwards. 

' Sorry 1 I'm scrubbing decks. Gome up and bathe. 
Slept well? ' I heard a voice saying from aloft. 

' Fairly well,' I growled, stepping out into a pool of 
water on the oilcloth. Thence I stumbled up the ladder, 
dived overboard, and buried bad dreams, stifihess, frowsiness, 
andtormented nerves in the loveliest fiord of the lovely 
Baltic. A short and furious swim and I was back again 
searching for a means of ascent up the smooth black side 
which, low as it was, was slippery and unsympathetic. 
Davies, in a loose canvas shirt, with the sleeves tucked up, 
and flannels rolled up to the knee, hung over me with a 
rope's end, and chatted unconcernedly about the easiness of 
the job when you know how, adjuring me to mind the 
paint, and talking about an accommodation ladder he had 
once had, but had thrown overboard because it was so 
horribly in the way. When I arrived, my knees and elbows 
were picked out in black paint, to his consternation. 
Nevertheless, as I plied the towel, I knew that I had left 
m those limpid depths yet another crust of discontent and 
self-conceit. 



DAVIES 

ka I dressed into flannels and blazer, I looked round 
the deck, and with an unskilled and doubtful eye took in 
all that the darkness had hitherto hidden. She seemed 
very small (in point of fact she was seven tons), something 
over thirty feet in length and nine in beam, a size very 
suitable to week-ends in the Solent for such as liked that 
sort of thing ; but that she should have come from Dover 
to the' Baltic suggested a world of physical endeavour of 
which I had never dreamed. I passed to the aesthetic side. 
Smartness and beauty were essential to yachts, in my mind, 
but with the best resolves to be pleased I found little 
encouragement here. The hull seemed too low, and the 
main-mast too high ; the cabin roof looked clumsy, and the 
sk^dights saddened the eye with dull iron and plebeian 
graining. What brass there was, on the tiller-head and 
elsewhere, was tarnished with sickly green. The decks had 
none of that creamy purity which Cowes expects, but were 
rough and grey, and showed tarry exhalations round the 
seams and rusty stains near the bows. The ropes and 
rigging were in mourning when contrasted with the 
delicate buff manilla so satisfying to the artistic eye as 
seen against the blue of a June sky at Southsea. Nor was 
the whole effect bettered by many signs of recent refitting. 
An impression of paint, varnish and carpentry were in the 
air ; a gaudy new burgee fluttered aloft ; there seemed to 
be a new rope or two, especially round the diminutive 
mizzen-mast which itself looked altogether new. But all 
this only emphasised the general plainness, reminding one of 
a respectable woman of the working-classes trying to dress 
above her station, and soon likely to give it up. 

That the ens&mble was businesslike and solid even my 
untrained eye could see. Many of the deck fittings seemed 
disproportionately substantial. The anchor-chain looked 
contemptuous of its charge ; the binnacle with its compass 
was of a size and prominence almost comically impressive, 
and was moreover the only piece of brass which was 



S6 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

burnished and showed traoes of reverent caro. Two hiige 
eoils of stout and dingy warp lay jnst abaft the main-mast, 
and summed up the weather-beaten aspect of the little ship, 
I should add here that in the distant past she had been a 
lifeboat, and had been clumsily converted into a yacht by 
the addition of a counter, deck, and i^e necessary spars. 
She was built, as all lifeboats are, diagonally, of two skins 
of t^k, and thus had immense strength, though, in the 
matter of looks, all a hybrid's failings. 

Hunger and ' Tea's made 1 ' from below brought me 
down to the cabin, where I found breakfast laid out on the 
table over the centre-board case, with Davies earnestly 
presiding, rather flushed as to the face, and sooty as to the 
fingers. There was a slight shortage of plate and crockery, 
but I praised the bacon and could do so truthfully, for its 
crisp and steaming shavings would have put to shame the 
efforts of my London cook. Indeed I should have enjoyed 
the meal heartily were it not for the lowness of the sofa 
and table, causing a curvature of the body which made 
swallowing a more lengthy process than usual, and induced 
ft periodical yearning to get up and stretch ; a relief which 
spelt disaster to the skull. I noticed, too, that Davies spoke 
with a zest, sinister to me, of the delights of white bread 
and fresh milk, which he seemed to consider unusual 
luxuries, though suitable to an inaugural banquet in honour 
of a &stidious stranger. ' One can't be always going on 
shore,' he said, when I showed a discreet interest in these 
things. * I lived for ten days on a big rye loaf over in the 
Frisian islands.' 

* And it died hard, I suppose ? ' 

* Very hard, but ' (gravdy) ' quite good. After that I 
taught myself to make rolls ; had no baking powder at first, 
so used Eno's fruit salt, but they wouldn't rise much with 
that. As for milk, condensed is — I hope you don't mind 
it?' 

I changed the subject, and asked about his plans* 



DAVIES «7 

' Lei's get tinder way at once/ he said, ' and sail down the 
fiord.' I tried for something more specific, but he was gone, 
and his voice drowned in the fok'sie by the clatter and swish 
of washing up. Thenceforward events moved with bewilder- 
ing rapidity. Humbly desirous of being useful I joined 
him on deck, only to find that he scarcely nolicedme, save 
as a new and unexpected obstacle in his round of activity. 
He was everywhere at once — Sheaving in chain, hooking on 
halyards, hauling ropes ; while my part became that of the 
clown who does things after they are already done, for my 
knowledge of a yacht was of that floating and inaccurate 
kind which is useless in practice. Soon the anchor was up 
(a great rusty monster it tiras 1) the sails set, and Davies 
was darting swiftly to and fro between the tiller and jib- 
sheets, while the * Dulcibella ' bowed a lingering farewell to 
the shore and headed for the open fiord. Erratic puffs 
from the high land behind made her progress timorous at 
first, but soon the fair- way was reached and a true breeze 
from Flensburg and the west took her in its friendly grip. 
Steadily she rustled down the calm blue highway whose 
soft beauty was the introduction to a passage in my life, 
short, but pregnant with moulding force, through stress and 
strain, for me and others. 

Davies was gradually resuming his natural self, with 
abstracted intervals, in which he lashed the helm to finger a 
distant rope, with such speed that the movements seemed 
simultaneous. Once he vanished, only to reappear in an 
instant with a chart which he studied, while steering, with 
a success that its reluctant folds seemed to render impossi- 
ble. Waiting respectfully for his revival I had full time to 
look about. The fiord here was about a mile broad. From 
the shore we had left the hills rose steeply, but with no 
rugged grandeur ; the outUnes were soft ; there were green 
spaces and rich woods on the lower slopes ; a little white 
town was opening up in one place, and scattered farms dotted 
the prospect The other shore, which I could just see, framed 



as THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

between the gunwale and the main-sail, as I sat leaning 
against the hatchway and sadly missing a deck-chair, was 
lower and lonelier, thongh prosperous and pleasing to the 
eye. Spacioos pastures led up by slow degrees to ordered 
clusters of wood which hinted at the presence of some great 
manor house. Behind us Flensburg was settling into haze. 
Ahead, the scene was shut in by the contours of hills, some 
clear, some dreamy and distant. Lastly, a single glimpse 
of water shining between the folds of hill far away hinted 
at spaces of distant sea of which this was but a secluded 
inlet. Everywhere was that peculiar charm engendered by 
the association of quiet pastoral country and a homely 
human atmosphere with a branch of the great ocean that 
bathes all the shores of our globe. 

There was another charm in the scene, due to the way 
in which I was viewing it — not as a pampered passenger on 
a 'fine steam yacht,' or even on 'a powerful modern 
schooner,' as the yacht agents advertise — but from the deck 
of a scrubby little craft of doubtful build and distressing 
plainness, which yet had smelt her persistent way to this 
distant fiord through I knew not what of difficulty and 
danger, with no apparent motive in her single occupant, 
who talked as vaguely and unconcernedly about his adven- 
turous cruise as though it were all a protracted afternoon 
on Southampton Water. 

I glanced round at Davies. He had dropped the chart 
and was sitting, or rather half lying, on the deck with one 
bronzed arm over the tiller, gazing fixedly ahead with just 
an occasional glance around and aloft. He still seemed 
absorbed in himself, and for a monient or two I studied his 
face with an attention I had never, since I had known him, 
given it. I had always thought it commonplace, as I had 
thought him commonplace, so far as I had thought at all 
about either. It had always rather irritated me by an 
excess of candour and boyishness. These qualities it had 
kept but the scales were falling from my eyes, and I saw 



DAVIBS M 

others. I saw strength to obstinaoy, and courage to reck- 1 
lessness in the firm lines of the chin ; an older and deeper i 
look in the eyes. Those odd transitions from bright mobility 
to detached earnestness, which had partly amused and chiefly 
annoyed me hitherto, seemed now to be lost in a sensitive 
reserve, not cold or egotistic, bnt strangely winning from 
its paradoxical frankness. Sincerity was stamped on 
every lineament. A deep misgiving stirred me that, clever 
as I thought myself, nicely perceptive of the right and con- 
genial men to know, I had made some big mistakes — how 
many, I wondered ? A relief scarcely less deep because it 
was unconfessed, stole in oh me witii the suspicion that, 
little as I deserved it, the patient fe^tes were offering me a 
golden chance of repairing at least one. And yet, I mused, 
the patient fates have crooked methods, besides a eertain 
mischievous humour, for it was Davies who had asked me 
out, though now he scarcely seemed to need me — almost 
tricked me into coming out, for he might have known I was 
not suited to such a life ; yet trickery and Davies sounded 
an odd conjuncture. 

Probably it was the growing discomfort of my attitude 
which produced this backsliding. My night's rest and 
the 'ascent from the bath' had in fact done Httle to 
prepare me for contact with sharp edges and hard sur- 
faces. But Davies had suddenly come to himself, and with 
an 'I say, are you comfortable? Have something to sit 
on ? ' jerked the helm a little to windward, felt it like a 
pulse for a moment with a rapid look to windward, and 
dived below, whence he returned with a couple of cushions 
which he threw to me. I felt perversely resentful of these 
hixuries and asked : 

' Can't I be of any use ? ' 

' Oh, don't you bother,' he answered. ' I expect you're 
tired. Aren't we having a splendid sail? That must be 
Ekken on the port bow,' peering under the sail, ' where the 
trees run in. I say, do you mind looking at the chart?* 



80 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

He tossed it over to me. I spread it out painlully, for it 
otirled up like a iiratcb-spring at the least slackening of 
pressure. I was not familiar with charts, and this sudden 
trust reposed in me after a good deal of neglect made me 
nervous. 

'You see Flensburg, don't you?' he said. 'That's 
where we are,' dabbing with a long reach at an indefinite 
space on the crowded sheet. ' Now which side of that buoy 
off the point do we pass ? ' » 

I had scarcely taken in which was land and which was 
water, much less the significance of the buoy, when ha 
resxuned: 

* Never mind, I'm pretty sure it's all deep water about 
here. I expect that mark's the fairway for steamers.' 

In a minute or two we were passing the buoy in ques- 
tion, on the wrong side I am pretty certain, for weeds and 
sand came suddenly into view below us with uncomfortable 
distinctness. But all Davies said was : 

' There's never any sea here, and the plate's not down,* 
a dark utterance which I pondered doubtfully. ' The best 
of these Schleswig waters,' he went on, ' is that a boat of 
this size can go almost anywhere. There's no navigation 

required, why ' At this moment a faint scraping was 

felt rather than heard beneath us. 

* Aren't we aground ? ' I asked with great calmness. ^ 
' Oh, she'll blow over,* he replied, wincing a little. 

She ' blew over,' but the episode caused a little nuive 
vexation in Davies. I relate it as a good instance of one 
of his minor peculiarities. He was utterly without that 
didactic pedantry which yachting has a fatal tendency to 
engender in men who profess it. He had tossed me the 
chart without a thought that I was an ignoramus, to whom 
it would be Greek, and who would provide hipi with an 
admirable subject to drill and lecture, just as his neglect 
of me throughout the morning had been merely habitual 
and unconscious independence. In the second plaoe^ mastef 






DAVIES 81 

of his mStieTf as I knew him afterwards to be, resourceful, 
skilful, and alert, he was liable to lapse into a certain 
amateurish vagueness, half irritating and half amusing. 
I think truly that both these peculiarities came from the 
same source, a hatred of any sort of affectation. To the 
same source I traced the fact that he and his yacht 
observed none of the superficial etiquette of yachts and 
yachtsmen, that she never, for instance, flew a national 
ensign, and he never wore a * yachting suit.' 

We rounded a low green point which I had scarcely 
noticed before. 

' We must jibe,' said Davies ; ' just take the hehn, will 
you ' ; and, without waiting for my co-operation, he began 
hauling in the mainsheet with great vigour. I had rude 
notions of steering, but jibing is a delicate operation. No 
yachtsmim will be surprised to hear that the boom saw its 
opportunity and swung over with a mighty crash, with the 
mainsheet entangled round me and the tiller. 

'Jibed all standing,' was his sorrowful comment. 
'You're not used to her yet. She's very quick on the helm.* 

* Where am I to steer for ? ' I asked wildly. 

' Oh, don't trouble, I'll take her now,' he replied. 

I felt it was time to make my position clear. ' I'm an 
utter duffer at sailing,' I began. 'You'll have a lot to 
teach me, or one of these days I shall be wrecking you. 
You see there's always been a crew ' 

* Crew I' — with sovereign contempt — 'why the whole 
fun of the thing is to do everything oneself.' 

' Well, I've felt in the way the whole morning.' 

' I'm awfully sorry 1 ' His dismay and repentance were 
comical. ' Why it's just the other way ; you may be all 
the use in the world.' He became absent. 

We were following the inward trend of a small bay 
towards a cleft in the low shore. 

' That's Ekken Sound,' said Davies ; 'let's look in to it,' 
and a minute er two later we were drifting through a 



8S THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

damty little strait, with a peep of open water at the end ol 
ii Cottages bordered either side, some overhanging the 
Tory water, some connecting with it by a rickety wooden 
stahrcase or a miniature landing-stage. Creepers and roses 
rioted over the walls and tiny porches. For a space on one 
side, a mde qnay with small smacks floating off it, spoke of 
some minute commercial interests ; a very small tea-garden 
with neglected-looking bowors and leaf -strewn tables hinted 
at some equally minute tripping interest. A pervading 
hue of mingled bronze and rose came partly from the 
weather-mellowed woodwork of the cottages and stages, 
and partly from the creepers and the trees behind, where 
autumn's subtle fingers were already at work. Down this 
exquisite sea-lane we glided till it ended in a broad mere, 
where our sails which had been shivering and complaining 
filled into contented silence. 

' Beady about ! ' said Davies callously. ' We must get 
out of this again,' and round we swung. 

' Why not anchor and stop here ? ' I protested ; for a 
view of tantalising loveliness was unfolding itself. 

' Oh, we've seen all there is to be seen, and we must 
take this breeze while we've got ii' It was always torture 
to Davies to feel a good breeze running to waste while he 
was inactive at anchor or on shore. The ' shore ' to him 
was an inferior element, merely serving as a useful annexe 
to the water — a source of necessary supplies. 

' Let's have lunch,' he pursued, as we resumed our way 
down the fiord. A vision of iced drinks, tempting salads, 
white napery, and an attentive steward mocked me with 
past recollections. 

* You'll find a tongue,' said the voice of doom, ' in the 
starboard sofa-locker ; beer under the floor in the bilge. 
I'll see her round that buoy, if you wouldn't mind begin- 
ning.' I obeyed with a bad grace, but the close air and 
cramped posture must have benumbed my faculties, for I 
opened the port-side locker, reached down and grasped a 



DAVIBB 38 

stioky body, whioh turned out to be a pot of varnish. Be- 
coiling wretchedly, I tried the opposite one, oombatting the 
embarrassing heel of the boat and the obstructive edges of 
the centre-board case. A medley of damp tins of varied 
sizes showed in the gloom, exuding a mouldy odour. 
Faded legends on dissolving paper, like the remnants of 
old posters on a disused hoarding, spoke of soups, curries, 
beefs, potted meats, and other hidden delicacies. I picked 
out a tongue, re-imprisoned the odour, and explored for 
beer. It was true, I supposed, that bilge didn't hurt it, as 
I tugged at the plank on my hands and knees, but I should 
have myself preferred a more accessible and less humid 
wine-cellar than the cavities among slimy ballast from 
which I dug the bottles. I regarded my hard- won and ill- 
favoured pledges of a meal with giddiness and discourage* 
ment. 

' How are you getting on? ' shouted Davies ; ' the tin- 
opener's hanging up on the bulkhead ; the plates and 
knives are in the cupboard.' 

I doggedly pursued my functions. The plates and 
knives met me halfway, for being on the weather side, and 
thus having a downward slant, its contents, when I slipped 
the latch, slid affectionately into my bosom and overflowed 
with a clatter and jingle on to the floor. 

'That often happens,' I heard from above. 'Never 
mind! There are no breakables. I'm coming down to 
help.' And down he came, leaving the ' Di^lcibella ' to her 
own devices. 

< I think I'll go on deck,* I said. ' Why in the world 
couldn't you lunch comfortably at Ekken and save this 
infernal pandemonium of a picnic? Where's the yacht 
going to meanwhile? And how are we to lunch on tiiat 
slanting table ? I'm covered with varnish and mud, and 
ankle-deep in crockery. There goes the beer ! ' 

' You shouldn't have stood it on the table with this list 
on/ paid Davies, with intense composure, ' but it won't do 

D 



M THE BIDDLE Of THE SANDS 

ftny harm ; it'll dzoin into the bilge ' (ashes to ashes, dost to 
dust, I thought). 'You go on deck now, and I'll finish 
getting ready.' I regretted my explosion, though wrung 
from me under great provocation. 

' Keep her straight on as she's going,' said Davies, as I 
olambered up out of the ohaos, brushing the dust off my 
trousers and varnishing the ladder with my hands. I 
unlashed the helm and kept her as she was going. 

We had rounded a sharp bend in the fiord, and were 
saUing up a broad and straight reach which every moment 
disclosed new beauties, sights fiur enough to be balm to 
the angriest spirit A red-roofed hamlet was on our left» 
on the right an ivied ruin, dose to the water, where some 
contemplative cattle stood knee-deep. The view ahead was 
a white strand which fringed both shores, and to it fell 
wooded slopes, interrupted here and there by low sandstone 
cliffs of warm red colouring, and now and again by a 
dingle with cracks of green sward. 

I forgot petty squalors and enjoyed things — the coy 
tremble of the tiller and the backwash of air &om the 
dingy Tnainsai], and, with a somewhat chastened rapture, 
the lunch which Davies brought up to me and solicitously 
watched me eat. 

Later, as the wind sank to lazy airs, he became busy 
with a larger topsail and jib ; but I was content to doze 
away the afternoon drenching brain and body in the sweet 
and novel foreign atmosphere, and dreamily watching i^e 
fringe of glen cliff and cool white sand da they passed ever 
more slowly by. 



36 



CHAPTER IV 

BBTBOSFBCT 

* Waks np.* I rabbed my eyes and wondered where I 
was ; stretobed myself painfully too, for even the cushions 
had not given me a true bed of roses. It was dusk, and 
the yacht was stationary in glassy water, coloured by the 
last after-glow. A roofing of thin upper-cloud had spread 
over most of the sky, and a subtle smell of rain was in the 
air. We seemed to be in the middle of the fiord, whose 
shores looked distant and steep in the gathering darkness. 
Close ahead they faded away suddenly, and the sight lost 
itself in a grey void. The stillness was absolute. 

' We can't get to Sonderburg to-night,' said Davies. 

'What's to be done then?' I asked, oolleoting my 
senses. 

'Oht we'U anchor anywhere here, we're just at the 

mouth of the fiord ; I'll tow her inshore if you'll steer in 

that direction ' — he pointed vaguely at a blur of trees and 

cliff. Then he jimiped into the dinghy, cast off the painter, 

and after snatching at the slack of a rope, began towing the 

reluctant yacht by short jerks of the sculls. The menacing 

aspect of that grey void, combined with a natural preference 

for getting to some definite place at nighty combined to 

depress my spirits afresh. In my sleep I had dreamt of 

Morven Lodge, of heather tea-parties after glorious 

slaughters of grouse, of salmon leaping in amber pools — 

and now 

»3 



86 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

* Just take a oast of the lead, will you ? ' came DaTiee'i 
voice above the splash of the scolls. 

' Where is it ? ' I shouted back. 

'Never mind — we're close enough now; let—-— Oan 
you manage to let go the anchor ? ' 

I hurried forward and picked impotently at the bonds 
of the sleeping monster. But Davies was aboard again, and 
stirred him with a deft touch or tw0| till he crashed into 
the water with a grinding of chain. 

' We shall do well here/ said he. 

' Isn't this rather an open anchorage ? ' I suggested. 

'It's only open &om that quarter/ he replied. 'If it 
comes on to blow from there we shall have to clear out ; 
but I think it's only rain. Let's stow the sails.' 

Another whirlwind of activity, in which I joined as 
effectively as I could, oppressed by the prospect of having 
to 'dear out' — ^who knows whither? — at midnight. But 
Davies's sang /raid was infectious, I suppose, and the 
little den below, bright-lit and soon fragrant with cookery, 
pleaded insistently for affection. Yachting in this singular 
style was hungry work, I found. Steak tastes none the 
worse for having been wrapped in newspaper, and the slight 
traces of the day's news disappear with frying in onions 
and potato-chips. Davies was indeed on his mettle for 
this, his first dinner to his guest ; for he produced with 
stealthy pride, not from the dishonoured grave of the beer, 
but from some more hallowed recess, a bottle of German 
champagne, from which we drank success to the ' Duld- 
bella.' 

' I wish you would tell me all about your cruise from 
England,' I asked. 'You must have had some exciting 
adventures. Here are the charts : let's go over them.' 

' We must wash up first,' he r/)plied, and I was tactfuUy 
introduced to one of his very few ' standing orders,' that 
tobacco should not bum, nor post-prandial chat begin, until 
that distasteful process had ended. ' It would never get 



BETBOSPEOT 87 

done otherwise,' he sagely opined. But when we were 
finally settled with dgars, a variety of which, called from 
many ports — Oerman, Dutch, and Belgian — Davies kept in 
a battered old box in the net-rack, the promised talk hung 
fire. 

' I'm no good at description,' he complained, * and there's 
really very little to tell. We left Dover, Morrison and I, 
on the 6th of August — made a good passage to Ostend.' 

' You had some fun there, I suppose,' I put in, thinking 
of — well, of Ostend in August. 

* Fun t A filthy hole I call it ; we had to stop a couple 
of days, as we fouled a buoy coming in and carried away 
the bobstay ; we lay in a dirty little tidal dock, and there 
was nothing to do on shore.' 

« Well, what next ? ' 

' We had a splendid sail to the East Scheldt, but then, 
like fools, decided to go through Holland by canal and river. 
It was good fun enough navigating the estuary — the tides 
and banks there are appalling — ^but further inland it was a 
wretched business, nothing but paying lock-dues, bumping 
against schuyts and towing down stinking canals. Never 
a peaceful night like this — always moored by some quay or 
tow-path, with people passing and boys — heavens ! shall I 
ever forget those boys ! A perfect murrain of them infests 
Holland ; they seem to have nothing in the world to do 
but throw stones and mud at foreign yachts.' 

' They want a Herod, with some statesmanlike views on 
infanticide.' 

' By Jove ! yes ; but the fact is you want a crew for 
that pottering inland work, they can smack the boys and 
keep an eye on the sculls. A boat like this should stick 
to the sea, or out-of-the-way places on the coast— Well, after 
Amsterdimi.' 

•You've skipped a good deal, haven't you?' I inter- 
rupted. 

« Oh I have I ? Well, let me see, we went by Dordrecht 



88 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

to Botteirdam ; nothing to see there, and swarmfl of tags 
buzzing about and shaving one's bows eveiy second. On 
by the Veoht river to Amsterdam, and thence — ^Lord, what 
a relief it was!~out into the North Sea again. The 
weather had been still and steamy ; but it broke up finely 
now, and we had a rattling three-reef sail to the Zuyder 
Zee.' 

He reached up to the bookshelf for what looked like an 
ancient ledger, and turned over the leaves. 

* Is that your log? ' I asked. ' I should like to have a 
look at it.' 

* Oh I you'd find it dull reading — if you could read it at 
all ; it's just short notes about winds and bearings, and so 
on.' He was turning some leaves over rapidly. ' Now why 
don't you keep a log of what we do? I can't describe 
things, and you can.' 

* I've half a mind to try,' I said. 

* We want another chart now,' and he pulled down a 
second yet more stained and frayed than the first. ' We 
had a splendid time then exploring the Zuyder Zee, its 
northern part at least, and round those islands which 
bound it on the north. Those are the Frisian Islands, and 
they stretch for 120 miles or so eastward. You see, the 
first two of them, Texel and Vlieland, shut in the Zuyder 
Zee, and the rest border the Dutch and Oerman coasts.' ^ 

* What's all this ? ' I said, running my finger over some 
dotted patches which covered much of the chart. The 
latter was becoming unintelligible ; clean-cut coasts and 
neat regiments of little figures had given place to a con* 
fusion of winding and intersecting lines and bald spaces. 

'All sand,* said Davies enthusiastically. 'You can't 
think what a splendid sailing-ground it is. You can 
explore for days without seeing a soul. These are the 
channels, you see ; they're very badly charted. This chart 
was almost useless, but it made it all the more fun. Na 

' Bee Frontispieoe. 



BETBOSPEOT 89 

towns or harboTUB, just a village or two on the islands, if 
yon wanted stores.' 

' They look rather desolate,' I said. 

' Desolate's no word for it ; they're really only gigantic 
sandbanks themselves.' 

' Wasn't aU this rather dangerons 7 ' I asked. 

'Not a bit ; yon see that's where onr shallow draught 
and flat bottom came in — ^we could go anywhere, and it 
didn't matter running aground — she's perfect for that sort 
of work ; and she doesn't really look bad either, does she ? ' 
he asked rather wistfully. I suppose I hesitated, for he said 
abruptly: 

' Anyway, I don't go in for looks.' 

He had leaned back, und I detected traces of incipient 
absent-mindedness. His cigar, which he had lately been 
lighting and re-lighting feverishly, a habit of his when 
excited, seemed now to have expired for good. 

' About running aground,' I persisted, ' surely that's apt 
to be dangerous ? ' 

He sat up and felt round for a match. 

'Not the least, if you know where you can run risks and 
where you can't ; anyway,^you can't possibly help it. That 
chart may look simple to you ' — (* simple I ' I thought) — 
* but at half -flood all those banks are covered ; the islands 
and coasts are scarcely visible, they are so low, and every- 
thing looks the same.' This graphic description of a 
'splendid cruising-ground ' took away my breath. 'Of 
course there is risk sometimes — choosing an anchorage 
requires care. You can generally get a nice berth under 
the lee of a bank, but the tides run strong in the channels, 
and if there's a gale blowing ' 

' Didn't you ever take a pilot ? ' I interrupted. 

'Pilot? Why the whole point of the thing'— he 
stopped short — ' I did take one once, later on,' he resumed, 
with an odd smile, which faded at once. 

' Well t ' I urged, for I saw a reverie was coming. 



40 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' Oh I he ran me ashore, cl ooiunse. Served me xighL 
I wonder what the weather's doix^; ' ; he rose, glanoed at 
the aneroid, the clock, and the half-dosed skylight with a 
curious circular movement, and went a step or two up the 
companion-ladder, where he remained for several minutes 
with head and shoulders in the open air. 

There was no sound of wind outside, but the' Duloibella * 
had begun to move in her sleep, as it wore, rolling drowsily 
to some faint send of the sea, with an occasional short jump 
like the start of an uneasy dreamer. 

' What does it look like f ' I called from my sofa. I 
had to repeat the question. 

'Bain coming,' said Davies, returning, 'and possibly 
wind ; but we're safe enough here. It's coming from the 
sou'-west ; shall we turn in ? ' 

' We haven't finished your cruise yet,' I said. ' Idght 
a pipe and tell me the rest.' 

'All right,' he agreed, with more readiness than I 
expected. 

' After Terschelling ^ — here it is, the third island from 
the west — ^I pottered along eastward.' 

'I?' 

'Ohl I forgot. Morrison had to leave me there. I 

missed him badly, but I hoped at that time to get to 

join me. I could manage aU right single-handed, but for 
that sort of work two are much better than one. The 
plate's beastly heavy ; in fact, I had to give up using it for 
fear of a smash.' 

' After Terschelling ? ' I jogged his memory. 

' Well, I followed the Dutch islands, Ameland, Sehier- 
monnikoog, Bottum, (outlandish names, aren't they?), 
sometimes outside them, sometimes inside. It was 
a bit lonely, but grand sport and very interesting. The 
charts were shocking, but I worried out most of the 
channels.' 

' See Frontispiede. 



BETBOSPEOT 41 

*I suppose those waters are only used bj small looal 
eraft^' I put in ; ' that would acoount for iuaoourades.' 
Did Davies think that Admizalties had time to waste on 
smoothing the road for such quixotio little craft as his, in 
all its inquisitive ramblings ? But he fired up. 

' That's all very well,' he said, ' but think what folly it 
is — However, that's a long story and will bore you. To out 
matters short, for we ought to be turning in, I got to 
Borkum — that's the first of the Qemum islands.' He pointed 
at a round bare lozenge lying in the midst of a welter of 
sandbanks. ' Bottum (this queer little one — ^it has only one 
house on it) \a the most easterly Dutch island, and the 
mainland of Holland ends here, opposite it, at the Ems 
Biver ' — indicating a dismal cavity in the coast, sown with 
names suggestive of mud, and wrecks, and dreariness. 

' What date was this ? ' I asked. 

* About the ninth of this month.' 

' Why, that's only a fortnight before you wired to me I 
You were pretty quick getting to Flensburg. Wait a bit, 
we want another chart. Is this the next ? ' 

' Yes, but we scarcely need it. I only went a little way 
further on— to Nordemey, in fact, the third Oerman 
island — then I decided to go straight for the Baltic. I 
had always had an idea of getting there, as Knight did in 
the '' Falcon." So I made a passage of it to the Eider 
Biver, there on the West Schleswig coast, took the river 
and canal through to Eiel on the Baltic, and from there 
made another passage up north to Flensburg. I was a 
we^ there, and then you came, and here we are. And 
nbw let's turn in. We'll have a fine sail to-morrow 1 ' 
He ended with rather forced vivacity, and briskly rolled up 
the chart. The reluctance he had showiT&om the first to 
talk about his cruise had been for a brief space forgotten in 
his enthusiasm about a portion of it, but had returned 
markedly in this bald conclusion. I felt sure that there 
was more in it than mere disinclination to spin nautical 



48 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

yams in the 'hardy Corinthian' style which can be so 
offensive in amateur yachtsmen ; and I thought I guessed 
the explanation. His voyage single-handed to the Baltic 
from the Frisian Islands had been a foolhardy enterprise, 
with perilous incidents, which, rather than make light of, he 
would not refer to at ekil. Probably he was ashamed of his 
recklessness and wished to ignore it with me, an in- 
experienced acquaintance not yet enamoured of the ' Dulci- 
bella's ' way of life, whom both courtesy and interest 
demanded that he should inspire with confidence. I liked 
him all the better as I came to this conclusion, but I was 
tempted to persist a little. 

* I slept the whole afternoon,' I said, * and, to tell the 
truth, I rather dread the idea of going to bed, it's so 
tiring. Look here, you've rushed over that last part like 
an express train. That passage to the Bchleswig Coast — 
the Eider Biver, did you say ? — was a longish one, wasn't 
it?' 

'Well, you see what it was; about seventy miles, I 
suppose, direct.' He spoke low, bending down to sweep up 
some cigar ashes on the floor. 

'Direct?' I insinuated. 'Then you put in some- 
where?' 

'I stopped once, anchored for the night; oh, that's 
nothing of a sail with a fair wind. By Jove 1 I've for- 
gotten to caulk that seam over your bunk, and it's going to 
rain. I must do it now. You turn in.' 

He disappeared. My curiosity, never very consuming/ 
was banished by concern as to the open seam; for the 
prospect of a big drop, remorseless and regular as Fate, 
falling on my forehead throughout the night, as in the 
torture-chamber of the Inquisition, was alarming enough 
to recall me wholly to the immediate future. So I went to 
bed, finding on the whole that I had made progress in the 
exercise, though still far from being the trained contor- 
tionist that the occasion called for. Hammering ceased, 



BETBOSPEOT 48 

and Davies reappeared just as I was siretohed on the raok — 
tacked up in my bunk, I mean. 

'I say/ he said, when he was settled in his, and 
darkness reigned, 'do you think yon'll like this sort of 
thing?' 

<If there are many places about here as beautiful as 
this,' I replied, ' I think I shall. But I should like to land 
now and then and have a walk. Of course, a great deal 
depends on the weather, doesn't it? I hope this rain' 
(drops had begun to patter overhead) ' doesn't mean that the 
summer's oyer for good.' 

' Oh, you can sail just the same,' said Davies, 'unless 
it's yery bad. There's plenty of sheltered water. There's 
bound to be a change soon. But then there are the ducks. 
The colder and stormier it is the better for them.' 

I had forgotten the ducks and the cold, and, suddenly 
pi;psented as a shooting-box in inclement weather, the 
' Dulcibella ' lost ground in my estimation, which she had 
latterly gained. 

' I'm fond of shooting,' I said, ' but I'm afraid I'm only 
a fadr-weather yachtsman, and I should much prefer sun 
and scenery.' 

' Scenery,' he repeated, reflectiyely ; ' I say, you must 
haye thought it a queer taste of mine to cruise about on 
that outlandish Frisian coast. How would you like that 
sort of thing ? ' 

' I should loathe it,' I answered promptly, with a clear 
conscience. 'Weren't you delighted yourself to get to 
the Baltic ? It must be a wonderful contrast to what you 
described. Did you ever see another yacht there ? * 

' Only one,' he answered. ' Good night 1 ' 

'Goodnight!' 



44 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



CHAPTER V 

WANTBD, ▲ NOBTH WIND 

Nothing disturbed my rest that night, so adaptable is youth 
and so masterful is nature. At times I was remot^y 
aware of a threshing of rain and a humming of wind, with 
a nervous kicking of the little hull, and at one moment I 
dreamt I saw an apparition by candle-light of Dayies clad 
in pyjamas and huge top-boots, grasping a misty lantern 
of gigantic proportions. But the apparition mounted the 
ladder and disappeared, and I passed to other dreams. 

A blast in my ear like the voice of fifty trombones 
galvanised me into full consciousness. The musician, 
smiling and tousled, was at my bedside raising a foghorn 
to his lips with deadly intention. ' It's a way we have in 
the " Duldbella," ' he said, as I started up on one elbow. 
' I didn't startle you much, did I ?' he added. ' Well, I 
like the mattinata better than the cold douche,' I answered, 
thinking of yesterday. 

* Fine day and magnificent breeze t ' he answered. My 
sensations this morning wcpre vastly livelier than those of 
yesterday at the same hour. My limbs were supple again 
and my head clear. Not even the searching wind could 
mar the ecstasy of that plunge down to smooth seductive 
sand where I buried greedy fingers and looked through a 
medium blue with that translucent blue, fairy-faint and 
angel-pure, that you see in perfection oidy in the heart of 
ice. Up again to sun, wind, and the forest whispers from 
the shore ; down just once more to see the uncouth anchor 



WANTED, A NORTH WIND 45 

stabbing the sand's soft bosom with one msty fang, deaf 
and inert to the ' Dulcibella's ' punj efforts to drag him 
from his prey. Back, holding by the cable as a rusty olae 
from heaven to earth, up to that bourgeoise little maiden's 
bows ; back to breakfast with an appetite not to be blunted 
by condensed milk and somewhat passi bread. An hour 
later we had dressed the ' Duldbella ' for the road, and were 
foaming into the grey void of yesterday, now a noble- 
expanse of wind-whipped blue, half surrounded by distant 
hills, their every outline vivid in the rain- washed air. 

I cannot pretend that I really enjoyed this first sail into 
the open, though I was keenly anxious to do so. I felt the 
thrill of those forward leaps, heard that persuasive song the 
foam sings under the lee-bow^ saw the flashing harmonies 
of sea and sky ; but sensuous perception was deadened by 
nervousness. The j^abt looked smaller than ever outside 
the quiet fiord. The song of the foam seemed very near, 
the wave crests aft very high. The novice in sailing clings 
desperately to the thought of sailors— effective^ prudent 
persons, with a typical jargon and a typical dress, versed in 
local currents and winds. I could not help missing this 
professional element. Davies, as he sat grasping his beloved 
tiller, looked strikingly efficient in his way, and supr^nely 
at home in his surroundings ; but he looked the amateur 
through and through as with one hand and (it seemed) one 
eye he wrestled with a spray-splashed chart half unrolled 
on the deck beside him. All his casual ways returned to 
me — ^his casual talk and that last adventurous voyage to 
the Baltic, and the suspicions his reticence had aroused. 

'Do you see a monument anywhere? ' he said, all at 
once ; and, before I could answer : ' We must take another 
reef.' He let go of the tiller and re-lit his pipe, while the 
yacht rounded sharply to and in a twinkling was tossing 
head to sea with loud claps of her canvas and passionate 
Jerks of her boom, as the wind leapt on its quarry, now 
turned to bay, with redoubled force. The sting of spray in 



46 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

my eyes and the Babel of noise dazed me ; bntDaviee witha 
pull on the fore-sheet soothed the tormented little ship and 
left her coolly sparring with the waves while he shortened 
sail and puffed his pipe. An hour later the naorrow vista of 
Als Bound was visible, with quiet old Sonderborg sunning 
itself on the island shore, and the Dybbol heights towering 
above — the Dybbol of bloody memory ; scene of the last 
desperate stand of the Danes in '64, ere the Prussians 
wrested the two fair provinces from them. 

* It's early to anchor, and I hate towns,' said Davies, as 
one section of a lumbering pontoon bridge opened to give 
us passage. But I was firm on the need for a walk, and 
got my way on condition that I bought stores as Well, and 
returned in time to admit of further advance to a ' quiet 
anchorage.' Never did I step on the solid earth with 
stranger feelings, partly due to relief from confinement, 
partly to that sense of independence in travelling, which, for 
those who go down to the sea in small ships, can make the 
foulest coal-port in Northumbria seem attractive. And 
here I had fascinating Bonderburg with its broad-eaved 
houses of carved woodwork each fresh with cleansing yet 
reverend with age, its fair-haired Viking-like men, and rosy 
plain-faced women, with their bullet foreheads and large 
mouths; Bonderburg still Danish to the core under its 
Teuton veneer. Grossing the bridge I climbed the Dybbol, 
dotted with memorials of that heroic defence, and thence 
could see the wee form and gossamer rigging of the 
' Dulcibella ' on the silver ribbon of the Sound, and was re- 
minded by the sight that there were stores to be bought. 
Bo I hurried down again to the old quarter and bargained 
over eggs and bread with a dear old lady, pink as a dihu- 
tcmte, who made a patriotic pretence of not understanding 
German, and called in her strapping son, whose few words 
of English, being chiefly naufical slang picked up on a British 
trawler, were peculiarly useless for the purpose. Davies had 
tea ready when I came aboard again, and, drinking it 



WANTED, A NOBTH WIND 47 

* 

on deek, we proceeded up the sheltered Sound, which, in 
spite of its imposing name, was no bigger than an inland 
river, only the hosts of rainbow jelly-fish reminding us that 
we were threading a highway of ocean. There is no rise and 
fall of tide in these regions, to disfigure the shore with mad. 
Here was a shelving gravel bank ; there a bed of whispering 
rashes ; there again yoang birch trees growing to the very 
brink, each wearing a stocking of bright moss and setting 
his foot firmly in among golden leaves and scarlet f ongas. 

Davies was pre-ocoapied, bat he lighted ap when I 
talked of the Danish war. ' Germany's a thundering great 
nation,' he said ; ' I wonder if we shall ever fight her.' A 
little incident that happened after we anchored deepened 
the impression left by this conversation. We crept at dusk 
into a shaded backwater, where our keel almost touched the 
gravel bed. Opposite us on the Alsen shore there showed, 
clean-cut against the sky, the spire of a little monument 
rising from a leafy hollow. ' I wonder what that is,' I said. 
It was scarcely a minute's row in the dinghy, and when the 
anchor was down we sculled over to it. A bank of loam 
led to gorse and bramble. Pushing aside some branches we 
came to a slender Gothic memorial in grey stone, inscribed 
with bas-reliefs of battle scenes, showing Prussians forcing 
a landing in boats and Danes resisting with savage tenacity. 
In the failing light we spelt out an inscription : — ' Den 
bei dem Meeres Uebergange und der Eroberung von Alsen 
am 29. Juni 1864 heldenmiithig gefallenen zum ehrenden 
Ged&chtniss.' 'To the honoured memory of those who 
died heroically at the invasion and storming of Alsen.' I 
knew the German passion for commemoration : I had seen 
similar memorials on Alsatian battlefields, and several on 
the Dybbol only that afternoon ; but there was something 
in the scene, the hour, and the circumstances, which made 
this one seem singularly touching. As for Davies, I scarcely 
recognised him ; his eyes flashed amd filled with tears as he 
glanced from the inscription to the path we had followed 



48 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

and the water beyond. 'It was a landing in boatg, I 
suppose,' he said, half to himself. ' I wonder they managed 
ii What does heldemmlthig mean?' — 'Heroically.' — 
' Heldenmiithig gefallenen/ he repeated under his breath, 
lingering on each syllable. He was like a schoolboy 
reading of Waterloo. 

Our conversation at dinner turned naturally on war, and 
in naval warfare I found I had come upon Davies's literary 
hobby. I had not hitherto paid attention to the medley on 
our bookshelf, but I now saw that, besides a Nautical 
Almanack and some dilapidated ' Sailing Directions,' there 
were several books on the cruises of small yachts, and also 
some big volumes crushed in anyhow or lying on fiie top. 
Squinting painfxdly at them I saw Mahan's ' Life of Nelson,' 
Brassey's ' Naval Annual,' others. . 

'It's a tremendously interesting subject,' said Davies, 
pulling down (in two pieces) a volume of Mahan's ' Influence 
of Sea Power.' 

Dinner flagged (and froze) while he illustrated a point by 
reference to the much- thumbed pages. He was very keen, and 
not very articulate. I knew just enough to be an intelligent 
listener, and though hungry was delighted to hear him talk. 

' I'm not boring you, am I ? ' he said suddenly. 

' I should think not,' I protested. ' But you might just 
have a look at the chops.' 

They had indeed been crying aloud for notice for some 
minutes, and drew candid attention to their neglect when 
they appeared. The diversion they caused put Davies out 
of vdn. I tried to revive the subject, but he was reserved 
and diffident. 

The untidy bookshelf reminded me of the logbook, 
and when Davies had retired with the crockery to the fore- 
eastle, I pulled the ledger down and turned over the leaves. 
It was a mass of short entries, with cryptic abbreviations, 
winds, tides, weather, and courses appearing to predominate. 
The voyage from Dover to Ostend was dismissed in two 



\ 



WANTED, A NOBTH WIND 49 

lines ! * Under way 7 p.m., wind W.8.W. moderate ; West 
Hinder 6 a.m., outside all banks; Ostend 11 A.M.' The 
Scheldt had a oonple of pages very technical and itaccato 
in style. Inland Holland was given a contemptaous 
summary, with some half-hearted allusions to windmills, 
and so on, and a caustio word or two about boys, paint, and 
canal smells. 

At Amsterdam technicalities began again, and a brisker 
tone pervaded the entries, which became progressively fuller 
as the writer cruised up the Frisian coast. He was clearly 
in better spirits, for here and there were quaint and laboured 
efforts to describe nature out of material which, as far as I 
could judge, wafi repellent enough to discourage the most 
brilliant and observant of writers ; with an occasional note 
of a visit on shore, generally readied by a walk of half a 
mile over sand, and of talks with shop people and fishermen. 
But such lighter relief was rare. The bulk dealt with 
channels and shoals with weird and depressing names, with 
the centre-plate, the sails, and the wind, buoys and ' booms,' 
tides and ' berths ' for the night. ' Eedging off ' appeared 
to be a frequent diversion ; ' running aground ' was of 
almost daily occurrence. 

It was not easy reading, and I turned the leaves rapidly. 
I was curious, too, to see the latter part. I came to a point 
where the rain of little sentences, pattering out like small 
shot, ceased abruptly. It was at the end of September 9. 
That day, with its 'kedging' and 'boom-dodging,' was 
filled in with the usual detail. The log then leapt over three 
days, and went on: 'Sept. 18. Wind W.N.W. fresh. 
Decided to go to Baltic. Sailed 4 a.m. Quick passage 
E. ^ S. to mouth of Weser, Anchored for night under 
Hohenhorn Sand. S^t 14, nil S&pt. 16, under 
way at 4 a.m. Wind East moderate. Oourse W. 
by S. ; 4 miles ; N.E. by N. 16 miles. Norderpiep 9.80. 
Eider River 11.80.' This recital of naked facts was quite 
ohaiacteristio when * passages' were concerned, and any 



50 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

onriosity I had felt about his retioenoe on the previout 
night would have been rather allayed than stimulated had 
I not noticed that a page had been torn out of the book 
just at this point. The frayed edge left had been pruned 
and picked into very small limits ; but dissimulation was 
not Davies's strong point, and a child could have seen 
that a leaf was missing, and that the entries, starting 
from the evening of September 9 (where a page ended), 
had been written together at one sitting. I was on the 
point of calling to Davies, and chaffing him with having 
committed a grave offence against maritime law in having 
'cooked' his log; but I checked myself, I scarcely know 
why, probably because I guessed the joke would touch a 
sensitive place and fail. Delicacy shrank from seeing 
him compelled either to amplify a deception or blunder 
out a confession — ^he was too easy a prey ; and, after all, 
the matter was of small moment. I returned the book to 
the shelf, the only definite result of its perusal being to 
recall my promise to keep a diary myself, and I then and 
thwe dedicated a notebook to the purpose. ' 

We were just lighting our cigars when we heard voices 
and the splash of oars, followed by a bump against the hull 
which made Davies wince, as violations of his paint always 
did. * Outen Abend ; wo f ahren Sie bin 7 ' greeted us as 
we climbed on deck. It turned out to be some joinial 
fishermen returning to their smack from a visit to Sonder- 
burg. A short dialogue proved to them that we were mad 
Englishmen in bitter need of charity. 

' Come to Satrup,' they said ; ' all the smacks are there, 
round the point. There is good punch in the inn.' 

Nothing loth, we followed in the dinghy, skirted a bend 
of tiie Sound, and opened up the lights of a village with 
some smacks at anchor in front of it. We were escorted to 
the inn, and introduced to a formidable beverage, called 
coffee-punch, and a smoke- wreathed circle of smacks* 
men, who talked German out of courtesy, but were Danish 



WANTED, A NORTH WIND 81 

in all else. Daviea was at onoe at home with them, to a 
degree indeed that I envied. His Oerman was of the 
oradest kind, bizarre in vocabulary and oomioal in aooent ; 
but the freemasonry of the sea or some diarm of his own 
gave intuition to both him and his hearers. I cut a poor 
figure in this nautical gathering, though Davies, who 
persistently referred to me as ' memec Freund,' tried hard 
to represent me as a kindred spirit and to include me in 
the general talk. I was detected at once as an uninteresting 
hybrid. Davies, who sometimes appealed to me for a word, 
was deep in talk over anchorages and ducks, especially, as I 
well remember now, about the chance of sport in a certain 
Schlei Fiord, I fell into utter neglect, till rescued by a 
taciturn person in spectacles and a very high cap, who 
appeared to be the only landsman present. After silently 
puffing smoke in my direction for some time, he asked me 
if I was married, and if not, when I proposed to be. After 
this inquisition he abandoned me. 

It was eleven before we left this hospitable inn, escorted 
by the whole party to the dinghy. Our friends of the 
smack insisted on our sharing their boat, out of pure good- 
fellowship, for there was not nearly room for us, and would 
not let us go till a bucket of fresh-caught fish had been 
emptied into her bottom. After much shaking of scaly 
hands, we sculled back to the < DulcibeUa,' where she slept 
in a bed of tremulous stars. 

Davies sniffed the wind and scanned the tree^topSt 
where light gusts were toying with the leaves. 

* Sou'-west still,' he said, 'and more rain coming. But 
it's bound to shift into the north.' 

* Will that be a good wind for us? ' 

'It depends where we go,' he said slowly. 'I was asking 
those fellows about duck-shooting. They seemed to think 
the best place would be Bchlei Fiord. That's about fifteen 
miles south of Sonderburg, on the way to Kiel. They said 
there was a pilot chap living at the mouth who would tell 

■ 2 



58 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

us a£i about it. They weren't very encouraging though. 
We should want a north wind for that.' 

* I don't care where we go/ I said, to my own surprise. 

* Don't you really ? ' he rejoined with sudden warmth. 
Then, with a slight change of voice, * You mean it's all very 
jolly about here ? ' 

Of course I meant that. Before we went below we both 
looked for a moment at the little grey memorial; its 
slender fretted arch outlined in tender lights and darks 
above the hollow on the Alsen shore. The night was 
that of September 27, the third I had spent on tiie ' Duloi- 
bella.' 



58 



OHAPTEB VI 

SOHLBI FIOBD 

I icAKB no apology for baTing desoribed these early days in 
some detail It is no wonder that their trivialities are as 
vividly before me as the oolonrs of earth and sea in this 
enchanting comer of the world. For every trifle, sordid or 
picturesque, was relevant ; every scrap of talk a link, every 
passing mood critical for good or ilL So slight indeed were 
the determining canses that changed my antumn holiday 
into an undertaking the most momentous I have ever 
approached. 

Two more days preceded the change. On the first, the 
south-westerly wind still holding, we sallied forth into 
Augustenburg Fiord 'to practise smartness in a heavy 
thresh,' as Davies put it. It was the day of dedication for 
those disgusting oilskins, immured in whose stiff and 
odorous angles, I felt distressfully cumbersome ; a day of 
proof indeed for me, for heavy squalls swept incessantly 
over the loch, and Davies, at my own request, gave me no 
rest. Backwards and forwards we tacked, blustering into 
coves and out again, reefing and unreefing, now stung with 
rain, now warmed with sun, but never with time to breathe 
or think. 

I wrestled with intractable ropes, slaves if they could 
be subdued, tyrants if they got the upper hand ; creeping, 
craning, straining, I made the painful round of the deck, 
while Davies, hatless and tranquil, directed my blundering 
movementSt 



S4 THB BIDDLB OF THE BANDS 

* Now take the helm and try steering in a hard breese to 
windward. It's the finest sport on earth.' 

So I grappled with the niceties of that delioate craft ; 
smarting eyes, chafed hands, and dazed brain all pressed 
into the servioG, whilst Davies, taming the ropes the while, 
shouted into my ear the subtle mysteries of the art ; that 
fidgetting ripple in the luff of the mainsail and the distant 
rattle from the hungry jib— -signs that they are starved of 
wind and must be given more ; the heavy list and wallow 
of the hull, the feel of the wind on your cheek instead of 
your nose, the broader angle of the burgee at the mast- 
head—signs that they have too much, and that she is 
sagging recreantly to leeward instead of fighting to wind- 
ward. He taught me the tactics for meeting squalls, and the 
way to press your advantage when they are defeated ; the 
iron hand in the velvet glove that the wilful tiller needs if 
you are to gain your ends with it ; the exact set of th€ 
sheets necessary to get the easiest and swiftest play of the 
hull — ^all these things and many more I struggled fo 
apprehend, careless for the moment as to whether they were 
worth knowing, but doggedly set on knowing them. Need- 
less to say, I had no eyes for beauty. The wooded inlets 
we dived into gave a brief respite from wind and spindrif t, 
but called into use the lead and the centreboard tackle— 
two new and cumbrous complexities. Davies's passion for 
intricate navigation had to be sated even in these secure 
and tideless wattts. 

' Let's get in as near as we can — you stand by the lead,' 
was his formula ; so I made false casts, tripped up in the 
slack, sent rivers of water up my sleeves, and committed all 
the other gaucheries that beginners in the art commit, 
while the sand showed whiter beneath the keel, till Davies 
regretfully drew off and shouted : ' Beady about, centre-plate 
down,' and I dashed down to the trappings of that diabolical 
contrivance, the only part of the ' Dalcibella's ' equipment 
that I hated fiercely to the last. It had an odious habit 



BOHLEI BIOBD 55 

when lowered of spoutixig jets of water through its ohain- 
lead on to the cabin floor. One of my duties was to gag it 
with ootton-waste, but even then its ohokdng gurgle was a 
most uncomfortable sound in your dining-room. In a 
minute the creek would be behind us and we would be 
thumping our stem into the short hollow waves of the 
fiord^ and lurching through spray and rain for some point 
on the opposite shore. Of our destination and objects, if 
we had any, I knew nothing. At the northern end of the 
fiord, just before we turned, Davies had turned dreamy in the 
most exasperating way, for I was steering at the time and in 
mortal need of sympathetic guidance if I was to avoid a sud- 
den jibe. As though continuing aloud some internal debate, 
he held a one-sided argument to the effect that it was no use 
going further north. Ducks, weather, and charts figured 
m it, but I did not follow the pros and cons. I only know 
that we suddenly turned and began * to battle ' south again. 
At sunset we were back once more in the same quiet pool 
among the trees and fields of Als Sound, a wondrous 
peace succeeding the turmoil. Bruised and sodden, I was 
extricating myself from my oily prison, and later was 
tasting (though not nearly yet in its perfection) the unique 
exultation that follows such a day, when, glowing all over, 
delidously tired and pleasantly sore, you eat what seems 
ambrosia, be it only tinned beef ; and drink nectar, be it 
only distilled from terrestrial hops or coffee berries, and 
inhale as culminating luxury balmy fumes which even the 
happy Homeric gods knew naught of. 

On the following morning, the 80th, a joyous shout of 
' Nor'-west wind ' sent me shivering on deck in the small 
hours, to handle rain-stiff canvas and cutting chain. It 
was a cloudy, un9ettled day, but still enough after yester- 
day's boisterous ordeaL We retraced our way past Sonder- 
burg, and thence sailed for a faint line of pale green on the 
far south-western horizon. It was during this passage 
that an incident occurred which, slight as it was, opened 
my eyes to much. 



M THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

A flight of wild-duck crossed our bows at some little 
distance^ a wedge-shaped phalanx of craning necks and 
flapping wings. I happened to be steering while Dalies 
verified our course below ; but I called him up at once, and 
a discussion began about our chances of sport Dalies was 
gloomy over them. 

< Those fellows at Satrup were rather doubtful/ he said. 
' There are plenty of ducks, but I made out that it's not 
easy for strangers to get shooting. The whole country's 
so very civilised ; it's not tMd enough, is it ? ' 

He looked at me. I had no very clear opinion. It was 
anything but wild in one sense, but there seemed to be 
wild enough spots for ducks. The shore we were passing 
appeared to be bordered by lonely marshes, though a 
spacious champaign showed behind. If it were not for the 
beautiful places we had seen, and my growing taste for our 
way of seeing them, his disappointing vagueness would 
have nettled me more than it did. For, after all« he had 
brought me out loaded with sporting equipment under a 
promise of shooting. 

'I thought you proposed making inquiries at 'Schlei 
Fiord,' I said. ' Let us do that, and take our chance ; if 
there's no sport to be had, it can't be helped. By the look 
of the chart it's a splendid fiord ; we can explore it and have 
shelter if there's more bad weather. If it gets very bad, 
we must just see.' Davies kept me to the point. 

' Bad weather is what we want for ducks,' he said ; ' but 
I'm afraid we're in the wrong place for them. Now, if it 

was the North Sea, among those Frisian islands ' His 

tone was timid and interrogative, and I felt at once that he 
was sounding me as to some unpalatable plan, whose 
nature began to dawn on me. 

He stammered on through a sentence or two about 
' wildness ' and ' nobody to interfere with you,' and then I 
broke in : 

' You surely don't want to leave the Baltic f ' 



BOHLBI FIOBD 67 

'Why not f ' said he, staring into the oompass. 

'Hang it, man I ' I retomed tartly, 'here we are in 
October, the snnuner over, and the weather gone to pieces. 
We're alone in a oockle-shell boat, at a time when every 
other yacht of our size is laying up for the wintw. 
Luckily, we seem to have struck an ideal oruising-ground, 
with a wide choice of safe fiords and a good prospect of 
ducks, if we choose to take a little trouble about them. 
Tou can't mean to waste time and run risks ' (I thought of 
the torn leaf in the logbook) ' in a long voyage to those 
forbidding haunts of yours in the North Sea ? ' 

'It's not very long,' said Davies doggedly. 'Part of 
it's canal and the rest is quite safe if you're carefuL 
There's plenty of sheltered water, and it's not really 
necessary ' 

' What's it aU /or ?' I interrupted impatiently. ' We 
haven't tried for shooting here yet. You've no notion, 
have you, of getting the boat back to England this 
autumn ? ' 

'England?' he muttered. 'Oh, I don't much care.* 
Again his vagueness jarred on me; there seemed to be 
some bar between us, invisible and insurmountable. And 
after all, what was I doing here? Roughing it in a shabby 
little yacht, utterly out of my element, with a man who, a 
week ago, was nothing to me, and who now was a tiresome 
enigma. like swift poison the old morbid mood in which 
I left London spread through me. All I had learnt and 
seen slipped away ; what I had suffered remained. I was 
on the point of saying something which might have put a 
precipitate end to our cruise, but he anticipated me. 

* I'm awfully sorry,' he broke out, ' for being such a 
selfish brute. I don't know what I was thinking about. 
You're a brick to join me in this sort of Ufe, and I'm 
afraid I'm an infernally bad host. Of course this is just 
the place to cruise. I forgot about the scenery, and all 
that. Let's ask about the ducks here. As you say, we're 



\ 



88 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

•are to get sport, if we worzy and posh a bit. We miuil 
be nearly there now — ^yes, there's the entrance. Take the 
helm, will yon ? ' 

He sprang np the mast like a monkey, and gazed over 
the land from the oross-trees. I looked up at my enigma 
and thanked Providence I had not spoken ; for no one could 
have resisted his frank outburst of good nature. Tet it 
occurred to me that, considering the conditions of our life, 
our intimacy was strangely slow in growth. I had no clue 
yet as to where his idiosyncrasies began and his self ended, 
and he, I surmised, was in the same stage towards me. 
Otherwise I should have pressed him further now, for I 
felt oonyinced that there was some mystery in his behaviour 
which I had not yet accounted for. However, light was 
soon to break. 

I could see no sign of the entrance he had spoken of, 
and no wonder, for it is only eighty yards wide, though it 
leads to a fiord thirty miles long. All at once we were 
jolting in a tumble of sea, and the channel grudgingly dis- 
closed itself, stealing between marshes and meadows and 
then broadening to a mere, as at Ekken. We anchored 
dose to the mouth, and not far from a group of vessels of a 
type that afterwards grew very familiar to me. They were 
sailing-barges, something Hke those that ply in the Thames, 
bluff-bowed, high-stemed craft of about fifty tons, ketch- 
rigged and fitted with lee-boards, very light spars, and a 
long tip-tilted bowsprit. (For the future I shall call them 
< galliots.') Otherwise the only sign of life was a solitary 
white house — the pilot's house, the chart told us — close to 
t&e northern point of entrance. After tea we called on the 
pilot. Patriarohally installed before a roaring stove, in the 
company of a buxom bustling daughter-in-law and some 
rosy grandchildren, we found a rotund and rubicund person 
who greeted us with a hoarse roar of welcome in German, 
which instantly changed, when he saw us, to the funniest 
broken English, spoken with intense relish and pride. We 



80HLEI FIOBD K» 

explained ourflelves and our mission as well as we ooold 
through the hospitable interrnptions caused by beer and the 
strains of a huge musioal box, which had been set going in 
honour of our arrival. Needless to say, I was read like a 
book at once, and fell into the part of listener. 

* Tes, yes/ he said, ' all right. There is plenty ducks, 
but first we will drink a glass beer ; then we will sldft your 
ship, Captain — she lies not good there ' (Davies started up 
in a panic, but was waved back to his beer). ^ Then we 
will drink another glass beer ; then we will talk of ducks — 
no, then we will kill ducks — that is better. Then we will 
have plenty glasses beer.' 

This was an unexpected climax, and promised wdl for 
our prospects. And the programme was fully carried out. 
After the beer, our host was packed briskly by his daughter 
into an armour of woollen gaiters, coats, and mufflers, 
topped with a worsted helmet, which left nothing of his 
face visible but a pair of twinkling eyes. Thus equipped, 
he led the way out of doors, and roared for Hans and his 
gun till a great gawky youth, with high cheek-bones and a 
downy beard, came out from the yard and sheepishly shook 
our hands. 

Together we repaired to the quay, where the pilot stood, 
Ipoking like a genial ball of worsted, and bawled hoarse 
directions while we shifted the ' Dulcibella ' to a berth on 
the farther shore close to the other vessels. We returned 
with our guns, and the interval for refreshments followed. 
It was just dusk when we sallied out again, crossed a stretch 
of bog-land and took up strat^ic posts round a stagnant 
pond. Hans had been sent to drive, and the result was a 
fine mallard and three ducks. It was true that all fell to 
the pilot's gun, perhaps owing to Hans's filial instinct and 
his parent's canny egotism in choosing his own lair, or 
perhaps it was chance ; but the shooting-party was none 
the less a triumphal success. It was celebrated with beer 
and music as before, while the pilot, an infant on each 



eo THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

podgy kneOy disooursed exuberantly on the glories of hie 
oomitry and the Elycdan content of his life. 

' There is plenty beer, plenty meat, plenty money, plenty 
duoks/ summed up his survey. 

It may have been faney, but Davies, though he had fits 
and starts of viyadty, seemed very inattentive considering ^ 
that we were sitting at the feet of so expansive an oraole. 
It was I who elicited most of the practical information ; 
details of time, weather, and likely places for shooting, with 
some shrewd hints as to the kind of people to conciliate. 
Whatever he thought of me, I warmed with sympathy 
towards the pilot, for he assumed that we had done with 
cruising for the year, and thought us mad enough as it was 
to have been afloat so long, and madder still to intend 
living on ' so little a ship ' when we could live on land with 
beer and music handy. I was tempted to raise the North 
Sea question just to watch Davies under the thunder of 
rebukes which would follow. But I refrained from a wish 
to be tender with him, now that all was going so well. 
The Frisian Islands were an extravagant absurdity now. 
I did not even refer to them as we pulled back to the 
'Dulcibella,' after swearing eternal friendship with the 
good pilot and his family. 

Davies and I turned in good friends thai night— or 
rather I should say that I turned in, for I left him sucking 
an empty pipe and aimlessly fingering a volume of Mahan ; 
and once when I woke in the night I felt somehow that his 
bunk was empty and that he was there in the dark cabin, 
dreaming. 



61 



CHAPTEB Vn 

THB inSSlKQ PAGE 

I WOKB (on the 1st of October) with that dispiriting sensa* 
tion that a hitoh has occurred in a settled plan. It was 
explained when I went on deck, and I found the ' Duldbella ' 
wrapped in a fog, silent, clammy, nothing visible from her 
decks but the ghostly hull of a galliot at anchor near us. 
She must have brought up there in the night, for there had 
been nothing so close the evening before ; and I remembered 
that my sleep had been broken once by sounds of rumbling 
chain and gruff voices. 

< This looks pretty hopeless for to-day,' I said, with a 
shiver, to Davies, who was laying the breakfast. 

'Well, we can't do anything till this fog lifts,' he 
answered, with a good deal of resignation. Breakfast was a 
cheerless meal. The damp penetrated to the very cabin 
whose roof and walls wept a fine dew. I had dreaded a 
bathe and yet missed it, and the ghastly light made the 
tablecloth look dirtier than it naturally was, and all the 
accessories more sordid. Something had gone wrong with 
the bacon, and the lack of egg-cups was not in the least 
humorous. 

Davies was just beginning, in his summary way, to 
tumble the things together for washing up, when there was 
a sound of a step on deck, two sea-boots appeared on the 
ladder, and, before we could wonder who the visitor was, a 
little man in oilskins and sou'-wester was stooping towards 



■ 



62 THB RIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

us in the cabin door, smiling affeotionaiely at DaviM out of 
a round grizzled beard. 

'Well met, Captain,' he said qnietly, in GemuuL 
* Where are yon bound to this time? ' 

'Bartelsl' exclaimed Davies, jumping up. The two 
stooping figures, young and old, beamed at one anotiier like 
father and son. 

'Where have yon come from? Have some coffee. 
How's the " Johannes " ? Was that you that came in last 
night? I'm delighted to see yonl ' (I spare the reader 
his nncouth lingo.) The little man was dragged in and 
seated on the opposite sofa to me. 

' I took my apples to Eappeln,' he said sedately, 'and 
now I sail to Kiel and so to Hamburg, where my wife and 
children are. It is my last voyage of the year. Ton are 
no longer alone. Captain, I see.' 

He had taken off his dripping son'-wester and was 
bowing ceremoniously towards me. 

' Oh, I quite forgot I ' said Davies, who had been kneel- 
ing on one knee in the low doorway absorbed in his visitor. 
' This is " meiner Freund," Herr Carruthers. Garruthers, 
this is my friend Schiffer Bartels of the galliot " Johannes." ' 

Was I never to be at an end of the puzzles which Davies 
presented to me? All the impulsive heartiness died out of 
his voice and manner as he uttered the last few words, and 
there he was, nervously glancing from the visitor to me, 
like one who, against his will or from tactlessness, has 
introduced two persons who he knows will disagree. 

There was a pause, while he fumbled with the cups, 
poured some cold coffee out and pondered over it as though 
it were a chemical experiment. Then he muttered some- 
thing about boiling some more water, and took refuge in 
the forecastle. I was ill at ease at this period with sea- 
faring men, but this mild Uttle person was easy ground for 
a beginner. Besides, when he took off his oilskin coat, he 
reminded me less of a sailor than of a homely draper of 



THE mssma pagb es 

lome oonntry town, with ids clean turned-down ooUar and 
neatly fitting irieze jacket. We exchanged some polite 
platitades about the fog and his voyage last night from 
Eappeln, which appeared to be a town some fifteen miles 
np the fiord. 

Davies joined in from the forecastle with an excess of 
warmth which almost took the words out of my mouth. 
We exhausted the subject Very soon, and then my vis-d-vii 
smiled paternally at me as he had done at Davies, and said 
confidentially : 

' It is good that the Oaptain is no more alone. He is a 
fine young man — ^heaven, what a fine young man ! I love 
him as my son — but he is too brave, too reckless. It is 
good for him to have a friend.' 

I nodded and laughed, though in reality I was very far 
from being amused. 

' Where was it you met ? ' I asked. 

*In an ugly place, and in ugly weather/ he answered 
gravely, but with a twinkle of fun in his eye. * But has he 
not told you ? ' he added with ponderous slyness. ' I came 
just in time. No I what' am I saying ? He is brave as a 
lion and quick as a cat. I think he cannot drown ; but 
still it was an ugly place and ugly ' 

' What are you talking about, Bartels f * interrupted 
Davies, emei^iing noisily with a boiling kettle. 

I answered the question. ' I was just asking your friend 
bow it was you made his acquaintance.' 

' Oh, he helped me out of a bit of a mess in the North 
Bea, didn't you, Bartels? ' he said. 

'It was nothing,' said Bartels. 'But the North Sea is 
no place for your little boat, Oaptain. So I have told you 
many times. How did you like Flensburg f A fine town, 
is it not? Did yoa find Herr Erank, the carpenter? I 
see you have placed a Uttle mizzen-mast. The rudder was 
nothing much, but it was well that it held to the Eider. But 
she is strong and good, your little shipi and— heaven l-Hihe 



64 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

had need be so.' He chuckled and shook his head at Dalies 
as at a wayward child. 

This is all the conversation that I need record. For my 
part I merely waited for its end, determined on my conrse, 
which was to know the truth once add for all and make an 
end of these distracting mystifications. 

Davies plied his Mend with coffee and kept up the talk 
gallantly; but affectionate as he was, his manner plainly 
showed that he wanted to be alone witti me. 

The gist of the little skipper's talk was a parental warn- 
ing that, though we were well enough here in the ' Ost-See,' 
it was time for little boats to be looking for winter quarters. 
That he himself was going by the Kiel Ganal to Hamburg 
to spend a cosy winter as a decent citizen at his warm fire- 
Bide, and that we should follow his example. He ended 
with an invitation to us to visit him on the ' Johannes/ and 
with suave toeweUs disappeared into the fog. Davies saw 
him into his boat, returned without wasting a moment, and 
sat down on the sofa opposite me. 

' What did he mean ? ' I asked. 

Til teU you,' said Davies. 'I'll tell you the whole 
thing. As far as you're concerned it's partly a confession. 
Last night I had made up my mind to say nothing, but 
when Bartels turned up I biew it must all come out. It's 
been fearfully on my mind, and perhaps you'll be able to 
help me. But it's for you to decide.' 

' Fire away t ' I said. 

* You know what I was saying about the Frisian Islands 
the other day. A thing happened there which I never told 
you, when you were asking about my cruise.' 

' It began near Nordemey,' I put in. 

* How did you guess that ? ' he asked. 

* Tou're a bad hand at duplicity,' I replied. ' Go on.* 

' Well, you're quite right, it was there, on September 9. 
I told you the sort of thing I was doing at that time, but 
I don't think I said that I had made inquiries from one or 



THE MISSINO FAOE 65 

two people about duck-shooting, and had been told by some 
fishermen at Borkum that there was a big sailing-yaoht in 
those waters, whose owner, a German of the name of 
Dollmann, shot a good deal, and might give me some tips. 
Well, I found this yaoht one evening, knowing it must be 
her from the description I had. She was what is called a 
" barge-yacht," of fifty or sixty tons, built for shallow water 
on the lines of a Dutch galliot, with lee-boards and those 
queer round bows and square stern. She's something like 
those galliots anchored near us now. You sometimes see 
the same sort of yacht in English waters, only there they 
copy the Thames barges. She looked a clipper of her sort 
and very smart ; varnished all over and shining hke gold. 
I came on her about sunset after a long day of exploring 
round the Ems estuary. She was lying in ' 

' Wait a bit, let's have the chart,' I interrupted. 

Davies found it and spread it on the table between us, 
first pushing back the cloth and the breakfast things to one 
end, where they lay in a slovenly litter. This was one of 
the only two occasions on which I ever saw him postpone 
the rite of washing up, and it spoke volumes for the 
urgency of the matter in hand. 

* Here it is,' said Davies (see Frontispiece), and I looked 
with a new and strange interest at the long sking of slender 
islands, the parallel line of coast, and the confusion of shoals, 
banks, and channels which lay between. * Here's Norderney, 
you see. By the way, there's a harbour there at the west? 
end of the island, the only real harbour on the whole line* 
of islands, Dutch or German, except at Terschelling. 
There's quite a big town there too, a watering place, where 
Germans go for sea-bathing in the summer. Well, the 
** Medusa," that was her name, was lying in the Biff Gat road- 
stead, fiying the German ensign, and I anchored for the nignt 
pretty near her. I meant to visit her owner later on, but I 
very nearly changed my mind, as I always feel rather a fool 
on smart yachts, and my German isn't very good. However, 

r 



66 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

I thought I might as well ; so, after dinneri when it was 
dark, I souUed over in the dinghy, hailed a sailor on deok, 
Baid who I was, and asked if I could see the owner. The 
sailor was a surly sort of chap, and there was a good long 
delay while I waited on deck, feeling more and more uncom- 
fortable. Presently a steward came up and showed me 
down the companion and into the saloon which, after tlm, 
looked — well, horribly gorgeous — you know what I mean, 
plush lounges, silk cushions, and that sort of thing. Dinner 
seemed to be just over, and wine and fruit were on the table. 
Herr Dollmann was there at his coffee. I introduced myself 
somehow * 

' Stop a moment,' I said ; ' what was he like? ' 

' Oh, a tall, thin chap, in evening dress ; about fifty I 
suppose, with greyish hair and a short beard. I'm not good 
at describing people. He had a high bulging forehead and 
there was something about him — but I think I'd better 
tell you the bare facts first. I can't say he seemed pleased 
to see me, and he couldn't speak English, and, in fact, I felt 
infernally awkward. Still, I had an object in coming, and 
as I was there I thought I might as well gain it.' 

The notion of Davies in his Norfolk jacket and rusty 
flannels haranguing a frigid German in evening dress in a 
' gorgeous ' saloon tickled my fancy greatly. 

'He seemed very much astonished to see me; had 
evidently seen the " Duldbella " arrive and had wondered 
what she was. I began as soon as I could about the ducks, 
but he shut me up at once, said I could do nothing here- 
abouts. I put it down to sportsman's jealousy — you know 
what that is. But I saw I had come to the wrong shop, 
and was just going to back out and end this unpleasant 
interview, when he thawed a bit, offered me some wine, and 
began talking in quite a friendly way, taking a great interest 
in my cruise and my plans for the future. In the end we 
sat up quite late, though I never felt really at my ease. 
He seemed to be taking stock of me all the time, as though 



THE MISSING PAGE 67 

I were some new animal.' (How I sympathised with that 
Gennan i) ' We parted oivilly enough, and I rowed back 
and turned in, meaning to potter on eastwards early next 
day. , 

* But I was knocked up at dawn by a sailor with a 
message from DoUmann asking if he could come to break- 
fast with me. I was rather flabbergasted, but didn't like 
to be rude, so I said " Yes." Well, he came, and I returned 
the call — and — well, the end of it was that I stayed at 
anchor there for three days.' 

This was rather abrupt. 

'How did you spend the time?' I asked. Stopping 
three days anywhere was an unusual event for him, as I 
knew from his log. 

' Oh, I lunched or dined with him once or twice, with 
them, I ought to say,' he added hurriedly. * His daughter 
was with him. She didn't appear the evening I first called.' 

* And what was she like ? ' I asked promptly, before he 
could hurry on. 

' Oh, she seemed a very nice girl,' was the guarded reply, 
delivered with particular unconcern, 'and — the end of it 
was that I and the '' Medusa " sailed away in company. I 
must tell you how it came about, just in a few words for 
the present. 

'It was his suggestion. He said he had to sail to 

Hamburg, and proposed that I should go with him in the 

"Dulcibella" as far as the Elbe, and then, if I liked, I 

could take the ship canal at Brunspiittel through to Kiel 

and the Baltic. I had no very fixed plans of my own, 

though I had meant to go on exploring eastwards between 

the islands and the coast, and so reach the Elbe in a much 

slower way. He dissuaded me from this, sticking to it 

that I should have no chance of ducks, and urging other 

reasons. Anyway, we settled to sail in company direct to 

Ouxhaven, in the Elbe. With a fair wind and an early 

start it should be only one day's sail of about edxty miles. 

r2 



^ 



68 THE BtDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' The plan only came to a head on the evening of the 
third day, the 12th of September. 

' I told you, I think, that the weather had broken after 
a long spell of heat. That very day it had been blowing 
pretty hard from the west, and the glass was falling still. 
I said, of course, that I couldn't go with him if the 
weather was too bad, but he prophesied a good day, said it 
was an easy sail, and altogether put me on my mettle. 
You can guess how it was. Perhaps I had talked about 
single-handed cruising as though it were easier than it was, 
though I never meant it in a boasting way, for I hate that 
sort of thing, and besides there is no danger if you're 
careful ' 

< Oh, go on,' I said. 

' Anyway, we went next morning at six. It was a dirty- 
looking day, wind W.N.W., but his sails were going up and 
mine followed. I took two reefs in and we sailed out into 
the open and steered E.N.E. along the coast for the Outer 
Elbe Lightship about fifty knots off. Here it all is, you 
see.' (He showed me the course on the chart.) ' The trip 
was nothing for his boat, of course, a safe, powerful old tub, 
forging through the sea as steady as a house. I kept up 
with her easily at first. My hands were pretty full, for there 
was a hard wind on my quarter and a troublesome sea; 
but as long as nothing worse came I knew I should be all 
right, though I also knew that I was a fool to have come. 

< All went well till we were off Wangeroog, the last of 
the islands — h&r^ — and then it began to blow really hard. 
I had half a mind to chuck it and out in to the Jade Biver, 
d<ywn there ; but I hadn't the face to, so I hove to and took 
in my last reef.' (Simple words, simply uttered ; but T 
had seen the operation in calm water and shuddered at the 
present picture.) ' We had been about level till then, but 
with my shortened canvas I fell behind. Not that that 
mattered in the least. I knew my course, had read up 
my tides, and, thick as the weather was, I had no doubt of 



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THE MISBINO PAOE 69 

being able to piok up the lightship. No ohftnge of plan 
was possible now. The Weser estuary was on my star- 
board band, but the whole plaoe was a lee-shore and a mass 
of unknown banks — ^just look at them. I ran on, the 
** DulcibeUa" doing her level best, but we bad some narrow 
shaves of being pooped. I was about heref say six miles 
south- west of the lightship,^ when I suddenly saw that the 
'* Medusa " had hove to right ahead, as though waiting tiU 
I oame up. She wore round again on the course as I drew 
level, and we were alongside for a bit. DoUmann lashed 
the wheel, leaned over her quarter, and shouted, very slowly 
and distinctly so that I could understand: "Follow me — 
sea too bad for you outside — short out through sands — ^save 
six miles." 

' It was taking me all my time to manage the tiller, but 
I knew what he meant at once, for I had been over the 
chart carefully the night before.^ You see the whole bay 
between Wangeroog and the Elbe is encumbered with sand. 
A great jagged chunk of it runs out from Ouxhaven in 
a north-westerly direction for fifteen miles or so, ending in 
a pointed spit called the Scharhom. To reach the Elbe 
from the west you have to go right outside this, round the 
lightship, which is off the Scharhorn, and double back. Of 
course, that's what all big vessels do. But, as you see, 
these sands are intersected here and there by channels, 
very shallow and winding, exactly like those behind the 
Frisian Islands. Now look at tbis one, which cuts right 
through the big chunk of sand and comes out near 
Ouxhaven. The Telle * it's called. It's miles wide, you 
see, at the entrance, but later on it is split into two by the 
Hohenhorn bank ; then it gets shallow and very complicated, 
and ends as a mere tidal driblet with another name. It's 
just the sort of channel I should like to worry into on a fine 

> See Chart opposite. 

* See Frontispiece. 

* See Chart opposite. 



•" 



70 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

day or with an off-shore wind. Alone, in thiok weather 
and a heavy sea, it would have been folly to attempt it, 
except as a desperate resource. But, as I said, I knew at 
once that DoUmann was proposing to run for it and guide 
me in. 

' I didn't like the idea, because I like doing things for 
myself, and, silly as it sounds, I believe I resented being 
told the sea was too bad for me, which it certainly was. 
Yet the short cut did save several miles and a devil of 
a tumble off the Scharhom, where two tides meet. I 
had complete faith in Dollmann, and I suppose I decided 
that I should be a fool not to take a good chance. I 
hesitated, I know ; but in the end I nodded and held up my 
arm as she forged ahead again. Soon after she shifted her 
course and I followed. You asked me once if I ever took a 
pilot. That was the only time.' 

He spoke with bitter gravity, flung himself back and 
felt his pocket for his pipe. It was not meant for a 
dramatic pause, but it certainly was one. I had just a 
glimpse of still another Davies — a Davies five years older, 
throbbing with deep emotions, scorn, passion, and stubborn 
purpose ; a being above my plane, of sterner stuff, wider 
scope. Intense as my interest had become, I wcated almost 
timidly while he mechanically rammed tobacco into his 
pipe and struck ineffectual matches. I felt that whatever 
the riddle to be solved, it was no mean one. He repressed 
himself with an effort, half rose and made his circular 
glance at the clock barometer and skylight, and then 
resumed. 

' We soon came to what I knew must be the beginning 
of the Telte channel. All round you could hear the 
breakers on the sands, though it was too thick to see them 
yet. As the water shoaled, the sea of course got shorter 
and steeper. There was more wind — a whole gale I should 
say. 

'I kept dead in the wake of the '< Medusa," but to my 



THE MISSINO PAGE 71 

diBgusi I found she wiis gaining on me very fast. Of 
course I had taken for granted, when he said he woald lead 
me in, that he would slow down and keep close to me. 
He could easily have done so by getting his men up to 
check his sheets or drop his peak. Instead of that he was 
busting on for all he was worth. Once, in a rain-squall, I 
lost sight of him altogether ; got him faintly again, but had 
enough to do with my own tiller not to want to be peering 
through the scud after a runaway pilot. I was all right so 
far, but we were fast approaching the worst part of the 
whole passage, where the Hohenhorn bank blocks the road 
and the channel divides. I don't know what it looks like 
to you on the chart — perhaps faurly simple, because you 
can follow the twists of the channels, as on a ground-plan ; 
but a stranger coming to a place like that (where there are 
no buoys, mind you) can tell nothing certain by the eye^ 
unless perhaps at dead low water, when the banks are high 
and dry, and in very clear weather ; he must trust to the 
lead and the compass and feel his way step by step. I 
knew perfectly well that what I should soon see would be a 
wall of surf stretching right across and on both sides. To 
feel one's way in that sort of weather is impossible. Tou 
must know your way, or else have a pilot. I had one, but 
he was playing his own game. 

' With a second hand on board to steer while I conned I 
should have felt less of an ass. As it was, I knew I ought 
to be facing the music in the offing, and cursed myself for 
having broken my rule and gone blundering into this 
confounded short cut. It was giving myself away, doing 
just the very thing that you can't do in single-handed 
sailing. 

< By the time I realised the danger it was far too late to 
turn and hammer out to the open. I was deep in the 
bottle-neck bight of the sands, jammed on a lee shore, and 
a strong flood tide sweeping me on. That tide, by the way, 
gave just the ghost of a chance. I bad the hours in my 



72 THE EIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

bead, and knew it was aboai two-tbirds flood with two 
hours more of rising water. That meant the banks would 
all be covering when I reached them, and harder than ever 
to locate ; but it also meant that I might float right over the 
worst of them if I hit off a lucky place.' Davies thumped 
the table in disgust. ' Pah 1 It makes me sick to think of 
having to trust to an accident like that, like a lubberly 
Cockney out for a boosy Bank Holiday sail. 

' Well, just as I foresaw, the waU of surf appeared clean 
across the horizon, and curling back to shut me in, booming 
like thunder. When I last saw the " Medusa " she seemed 
to be charging it like a horse at a fence, and I took a rough 
bearing of her position by a hurried glance at the compass. 
At that very moment I thouught she seemed to luff and show 
some of her broadside; but a squall blotted her out and 
gave me hell with the tiller. After that she was lost in 
the white mist that hung over the line of breakers. I 
kept on my bearing as well as I could, but I was already 
out of the channel. I knew that by the look of the water, 
and as we neared the bank I saw it was all awash and with- 
out the vestige of an opening. I wasn't going to chuck 
her on to it without an effort ; so, more by instinct than 
with any particular hope, I put the helm down, meaning to 
work her along the edge on the chance of spotting a way 
over. She was buried at once by the beam sea, and the jib 
flew to blazes ; but the reefed staysl stood, she recovered 
gamely, and I held on, though I knew it could only be 
for a few minutes as the centre-plate was up and she made 
frightful leeway towards the bank. 

' I was half blinded by scud, but suddenly I noticed what 
looked like a gap, behind a spit which curled out right 
ahead. I luffed still more to clear this spit, but she couldn't 
weather it. Before you could say knife she was driving 
across it, bumped heavily, bucked forward again, bumped 
again, and — ripped on in deeper water I I can't describe the 
next few minutes. I was in some sort of channel, but a 



THE MISSING PAGE 78 

very narrow one, and the sea broke everywhere. I hadn't 
proper command either; for the rudder had crocked up 
somehow at the last bump. I was like a drunken man 
running for his life down a dark alley, barking himself at 
every comer. It couldn't last long, and finally we went crash 
on to something and stopped there, grinding and banging. 
80 ended that little trip under a pilot. 

'Well, it was like this — there was really no danger* 
—I opened my eyes at the characteristic phrase. ' I mean, 
that lucky stumble into a channel was my salvation. 
Since then I had struggled through a mile of sands, all 
of which lay behind me like a breakwater against the gale. 
They were covered, of course, and seething like soapsuds ; 
but the force of the sea was deadened. The " Dulce " was 
bumping but not too heavily. It was nearing high tide, 
and at half ebb she would be high and dry. 

* In the ordinary way I should have run out a Sedge with 
the dinghy, and at the next high water sailed further in 
and anchored where I could lie afloat. The trouble was 
now that my hand was hurt and my dinghy stove in, not 
to mention the rudder business. It was the first bump on 
the outer edge that did the damage. There was a heavy 
swell there, and when we struck, the dinghy, which was 
towing astern, came home on her painter and down with a 
crash on the yacht's weather quarter. I stuck out one 
hand to ward it off and got it nipped on the gunwale. She 
was badly stove in and useless, so I couldn't run out the 
kedge ' — (this was Greek to me, but I let him go on) — ' and 
for the present my hand was too painful even to stow the 
boom and sails which were whipping and racketing about 
anyhow. There was the rudder too to be mended; and 
we were several miles from the nearest land. Of course, 
if the wind fell, it was all easy enough ; but if it held or 
increased it was a poor look-out. There's a limit to 
strain of that sort — and other things might have happened 

* In fact, it was precious lucky that Bartels turned up 



74 THE EIDDLB OP THE SANDS 

His galliot was at anchor a mile away, up a branch of the 
channel. In a clear between squalls he saw us and, like a 
brick, rowed his boat out — he and his boy, and a devil of a 
pull they must have had. I was glad enough to see them 
— ^no, that's not true ; I was in such a fury of disgust and 
shame that I believe I should have been idiot enough to 
say I didn't want help, if he hadn't just nipped on board and 
started work. He's a terror to work, that little mouse of a 
chap. In half an hour we had stowed the sails, unshackled 
the big anchor, run out fifty fathoms of warp and hauled 
her off there and then into deep water. Then they towed 
her up the channel— it was dead to leeward and an easy 
job — and berthed her near their own vessel. It was dark 
by that time, so I gave them a drink, and said good night. 
It blew a howling gale that night, but the place was safe 
enough, with good ground-tackle. 

' The whole affidr was over ; and after supper I thought 
hard about it alL' 



78 



OHAPTEB Vm 

THB THEOBY 

Davibb leaned back and gave a deep sigh as though he still 
felt the relief from some tension. I did the same, and felt 
the same relief. The chart, freed from the pressure of our 
fingers, rolled up with a flip, as though to say, ' What do 
you think of that ? ' I have straightened out hi|^ntence8 
a httle, for, in the excitement of his story, the^nd grown 
more and more jerky and elliptical. 'What about Doll- 
mann ? ' I asked. ' Of course,' said Davies, ' what about 
him? I didn't get at much that night. It was all so 
sudden. The only thing I could have sworn to from the 
first was, that he had purposely left me in the lurch that 
day. I pieced out the rest in the next few days, which I'll 
just finish with as shortly as I can. Bartels came aboard 
next morning, and though it was blowing hard still we 
managed to shift the "Dulcibella" to a place where she 
dried safely at the midday low- water, and we could get at 
her rudder. The lower screw-plate on the stern post had 
wrenched out, and we botched it up roughly as a make- 
shift. There were other little breakages, but nolliing to 
matter, and the loss of the jib was nothings as I had two 
spare ones. The dinghy was past repair just thousand I 
lashed it oa^eck. 

'It turned out that Bartels was carrying apples from 
firemen to Eappeln (in this fiord), and had run into that 
channel in the sands for shelter from the weather. To*day 



76 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

he was boofl for the Eider Biver, whence, as I told yon* 
you can get through (by river and canal) into the Baltic. 
Of course the Elbe route, by the new Eaiser Wilhelm ship 
canal, is the shortest. The Eider route is the old one, but 
he hoped to get rid of some of his apples at Tonning, the 
town at its mouth. Both routes touch the Baltic at EieL 
As you know, I had been runi^g for the Elbe, but yester- 
day's muck-up put me ofi^ and I changed my mind — ^I'll 
tell you why presently — and decided to sail to the Eider 
along with the " Johannes," and get through that way. It 
cleared from the East next day, and I raced him there, 
winning hands down, left him at Tonning, and in three 
days was in the Baltic. It was just a week after I ran 
ashore that I wired to you. You see I had come to the 
conclusion that that chap was a spy.* 

In th^^d it came out quite quietly and suddenly, and 
left me l^profound amazement. ' I wired to you — that 
chap was a spy.' It was the close association of these two 
ideas that hit me hardest at the moment. For a second I 
was back in the dreary splendour of the London club-room, 
spelling out that crabbed scrawl from Davies, and fas- 
tidiously criticising its proposal in the light of a holiday. 
Holiday t What was to be its issue ? Chilling and opaque 
as the fog that filtered through the skylight there flooded 
my imagination a mist of doubt and fear. 

'A spy!' I repeated blankly. 'What do you meant 
Why did you wire to me ? A spy of what— of whom ? ' 

' I'll tell you how I worked it out,' said Davies. ' I don't 
think *' spy "is the right word ; but I mean something 
pretty bad.' 

'He purposely put me ashore. I don't think I'm 
suspicious by nature, but I know something about boats 
and the sea. I know he could have kept close to me if ho 
had chosen, and I saw the whole place at low water when 
we left those sands on the second day. Look at the chart 
again. Here's the Hohenhorn bank that I showed you 



THE THEORY 77 

as blookiiig the road.^ It's in two pieces — &m the west 
and then the east. You see the Telte channel dividing 
into two branches and curving round it. Both branches are 
broad and deep, as channels go in those waters. Now, in 
sailing in I was nowhere near either of them. When I last 
saw Dollmann he must have been steering straight for the 
bank itself, at a point somewllere here, quite a mile from 
the northern arm of the channel, and two from the southern. 
I followed by compass, as you know, and found nothing 
but breakers ahead. How did I get through? That's 
where the luck came in. I spoke of only two channels, that 
is, round the bank — one to the north, the other to the south. 
But look closely and you'll see that right through the 
centre of the West Hohenhorn runs another, a very narrow 
and winding one, so small that I hadn't even noticed it the 
night before, when I was going over the chart. Jjuit was 
the one I stumbled into in that tailor's fashion^ra I was 
groping along the edge of the surf in a desperate effort to 
gain time. I bolted down it blindly, came out into this 
strip of open water, crossed that aimlessly, and brought 
up on the edge of the East Hohenhorn, here. It was 
more than I deserved. I can see now that it was a hundred 
to one in favour of my striking on a bad phce outside, 
where I should have gone to pieces in three minutes.' 

' And how did Dollmann go ? ' I asked. 

'It's as clear as possible,' Davies answered. 'He 
doubled back into the northern channel when he had 
misled me enough. Do you remember my saying that 
when I last saw him I thought he had l uffed a nd showed 
his broadside ? I had another bit of luck in that. He was 
luffing towards the north — so it struck me through the 
blur — ^and when I in my turn came up to the bank, and 
had to turn one way or the other to avoid it, I think I 
should naturally have turned north too as he had done. In 
that case I should have been done for, for I should hav9 

* See Chart at page 69< 



78 THE BmDLE OF THE SANDS 

liad a mile of the bank to skirt before reaching the north 
channel, and should have driven ashore long before I got 
there. But as a matter of fact I turned south.' 

'Why?' 

'Couldn't help it. I was running on the starboard 
tack — ^boom over to port ; to turn north would have 
meant a jibe, and as things were I couldn't risk one. It 
was blowing Uke fits; if anything had carried away I 
should have been on shore in a ji%. I scarcely thought 
about it at all, but put the helm down and turned her 
south. Though I knew nothing about it, that little central 
channel was now on my port hand, distant about two 
cables. The whole thing was luck from beginning to 
end.' 

Helped by pluck, I thought to myself, as I tried with 
my la^bman's fancy to conjure up that perilous scene. 
As to fllr truth of the afEiedr, the chart and Davies's version 
were easy enough to follow, but I felt only half convinced. 
The * spy,' as Davies strangely called his pilot, might have 
honestly mistaken the course himself, outstripped his con- 
voy inadvertently, and escaped disaster as narrowly as she 
did. I suggested this on the spur of the moment, but 
Davies was impatient. 

' Wait till you hear the whole thing,' he said. ' I must 
go back to when I first met him. I told you that on that 
first evening he began by being as rude as a bear and as 
cold as stone, and then became suddenly friendly. I can 
see now that in the talk that followed he was pumping me 
hard. It was an easy game to play, for I hadn't seen a 
gentleman since Morrison left me. I ^was tremendously 
keen about my voyage, and I thought the pbap was a good 
sportsman, even if he was a bit dark about the ducks. I 
talked quite freely — ^at least, as freely as I could with my 
bad German— about my last fortnight's sailing; how I 
had been smelling out all the channels in and out of the 
islands, how interested I had been in the whole business, 



THE THEORY 79 

puzzling out the effect of theidnds on the tides, the set of 
the currents, and so on. I talked about my difficulties too ; 
the changes in the buoys, the prehistoric rottenness of the 
English charts* He drew me out as much as he could, and 
in the light of what followed I can see the point of scores 
of his questions. 

' The next day and the next I saw a good deal of him, 
and the same thing went on. And then there were my 
plans for the future. My idea was, as I told you, to go on 
exploring the German coast just as I had the Dutch. His 
idea — ^heavens, how plainly I see it now 1— was to choke 
me off, get me to clear out altogether from that part of the 
coast. That was why he said there were no ducks. That 
was why he cracked up the Baltic as a cruising-ground and 
shooting-ground. And that was why he broached and 
stuck to that plan of sailing in company direct to the Elbe. 
It was to see me clear.' 

' He improved on that ? ' 

'Yes, but after that, it's guess-work. I mean that I 
can't tell when he first decided to go one better and drown 
me. He couldn't count for certain on bad weather, though 
he held my nose to it when it came. But, granted that he 
wanted to get rid of me altogether, he got a magnificent 
chance on that trip to the Elbe lightship. I expect it 
struck him suddenly, and he acted on the impulse. Left to 
myself I was all right ; but the short cut was a grand idea 
of his. Everything was in its favour — wind, sea, sand, tide. 
He thinks I'm dead.' 

' But the crew ? ' I said ; * what about the crew ? * 

' That's another thing. When he first hove to, waiting 
for me, of course they were on deck (two of them, I think) 
hauling at sheets. But by the time I had drawn up level 
the " Medusa " had worn round again on her course, and 
no one was on deck but DoUmann at the wheel. No one 
overheard what he said.' 

Wouldn't they have seen you again ? ' 



80 THE BEDDLE OF THE SANDS 

* Very likely not ; the weather was very thick and ibe 
" Dolce * is very small.* 

The incongruity of the whole business was striking me. 
Why should anyone want to kill Dayies, and why should 
Davies, the soul of modesty and simplicity, imagine that 
anyone wanted to kill him? He must have cogent reasons, 
for he was the last man to give way to a morbid fancy* 

' Go on/ I said. < What was his motive? A German 
finds an Englishman exploring a bit of German coast, 
det.ermines to stop him and even to get rid of him. It 
looks so far as if you were thought to be the spy.' 

Davies winced. ^But he's not a Oerman/ he said 
hotly. * He's an Englishman.' 

' An Englishman 1 ' 

'Tes, I'm sure of it. Not that I've much to go on. 
He professed to know very little English, and never spoke 
it, except a word or two now and then to help me out of a 
sentence ; and as to his German, he seemed to me to speak it 
like a native, but of course I'm no judge.' Davies sighed. 
'That's where I wanted someone like you. You would 
have spotted him at once, if he wasn't German. I go more 
by a — what do you call it ? — a ' 

' General impression,' I suggested. 

'Yes, that's what I mean. It was something in his 
looks and manner ; you know how different we are from 
^ foreigners. And it wasn't only himself, it was the way he 
talked — ^I mean about cruising and the sea, especially. It's 
true he let me do most of the talking ; but, all the same — 
how can I explain it ? I felt we understood one another, 
in a way that two foreigners wouldn't. He pretended to 
think me a bit crazy for coming so far in a small boat, but 
I could swear he knew as much about the game as I did ; 
for lots of httle questions he asked had the right ring in 
them. Mind you, all this is an afterthought. I should 
never have bothered about it — ^I'm not cut out for a Sher- 
lock Holmes — ^if it hadn't been for what followed.' 



^*? 



THE THEOBY 81 

* It's rather vagae,' I said. ' Have you no more definite 
reason for thinking him English ? ' 

' There were one or two things rather more definite/ 
said Davies slowly. 'You know when he hove to and 
hailed me, proposing the short cut, I told you roughly 
what he said. I forget the exact words, but " abschneiden " 
came in — ^^'durch Watten" and "abschneiden " (they call the 
banks "watts " you know) ; they were simple words, and 
he shouted them loud, so as to carry through the wind. 1 
understood what he meant, but, as I told you, I hesitated 
before consenting. I suppose he thought I didn't under- 
stand, for just as he was drawing ah^ again he pointed 
to the suth'ard and then shouted through his hands 
as a trumpet " Verstehen Sie ? short-cut through sands : 
follow me 1 " the last two sentences in downright Eng- 
lish. I can hear those words now, and I'll swear they 
were in his native tongue. Of course I thought nothing 
of it at the time. I was quite aware that he knew 
a few English words, though he had always mispro- 
nounced them; an easy trick when your hearer suspects 
nothing. But I needn't say that just then I wasn't obser- 
vant of trifles. I don^t pretend to be able to unravel a 
plot and steer a small boat before a heavy sea at the same 
moment.' 

'And if he was piloting you into the next world he 
could afford to commit himself before you parted 1 Was 
there anything else? By the way, how did the daughter 
strike you ? Did she look English too ? ' 

Two men cannot discuss a woman freely without a deep 
foundation of intimacy, and, until this day, the subject had 
never arisen between us in any form. It was the last that 
was likely to, for I could have divined that Davies would 
have met it with an armour of reserve. He was busy put- 
ting on this armour now ; yet I could not help feeling a 
UtUe brutal as I saw how badly he jointed his clumsy suit 
of mail. Our ages were the same, but I laugh now to think 

a 



82 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

how old and blasS I felt as the flush wanned his brown 
skin, and he slowly propounded the verdict, ' Yes, I think 
she did/ 

' She talked nothing bat German, I suppose? ' 

* Oh, of coarse I ' 

' Did you see much of her ? ' 

* A good deal/ 

* Was she ' (how frame it ?) * Did she want you to 

sail to the Elbe with them ? ' 

' She seemed to,' admitted Davies reluctantly, clutching 
at his ally the match-box. ' But, hang it, don't dream that 
she knew what was coming,' he added, with sudden fire. 

I pondered and wondered, shrinking from further inqui- 
sition, easy as it would have been with so truthful a vic- 
tim, and banishing all thought of ill-timed chaff. There 
was a cross-current in this strange a&ir, whose depth 
and strength I was beginning to gauge with increasing 
seriousness. I did not know my man yet, and I did 
not know myself. A conviction that events in the near 
future would force us into complete mutual confidence 
withheld me from pressing him too far. I returned to the 
main question: who was Dollmann, and what was his 
motive ? Davies struggled out of his armour. 

* I'm convinced,' he said, ' that he's an Englishman in 
A German service. He must be in German service, for he 

had evidently been in those waters a long time, and knew 
every inch of them ; of course it's a very lonely part of the 
world, but he has a house on Nordemey Island ; and he, 
and all about him, must be well known to a certain number 
of people. One of his friends I happened to meet ; what 
do you think he was? A naval officer. It was on the 
afternoon of the third day, and we were ha^dng coffee on 
the deck of the " Medusa," and talking about next day's 
trip, when a little launch came buzzing up from seaward, 
drew alongside, and this chap I'm speaking of came on 
board, shook hands with Dollmann, and stared hard at me. 



"> 



THE THEOBT 88 

DoUmann introduced us, calling him Commander von 
Briiningy in command of the torpedo gunboat " Blitz." He 
pointed towards Nordemey and I saw her — a low grey 
rat of a vessel — anchored in the Boads about two miles 
away. It turned out that she was doing the work of fishery 
guf rdship on that part of the coast. 

' I must say I took to him at once. He looked a real 
good sort, and a splendid officer too — just the sort of chap I 
should have liked to be. You know I always wanted — but 
that's an old story and can wait. I had some talk with 
him and we got on capitally as far as we went, but that 
wasn't far, for I left pretty soon, guessing that they wanted 
to be alone.' 

' Were they alone, then? ' I asked innocently. 

' Oh, Fraulein Dollmann was there, of course,' explained 
Davies, feeling for his armour agtdn. 

' Did he seem to know them well ? ' I pursued inconse- 
quently. 

' Oh, yes, very well.' 

Scenting a faint clue, I felt the need of feminine 
weapons for my sensitive antagonist. But the opportunity 
passed. 

' That was the last I saw of him,' he said. * We sailed, 
as I told you, at daybreak next morning. Now, have you 
got any idea what I'm driving at ? ' 

' A rough idea,' I answered. ' Go ahead.' 

Davies sat up to the table, unrolled the chart with a 
vigorous sweep of his two hands, and took up his parable 
with new zest. 

' I start with two certainties,' he said. ' One is that I 
was " moved on " from that coast, because I was too in- 
quisitive. The other is that that Dollmann is at some 
devil's work there which is worth finding out. Now — ,* he 
paused in a gasping e£Fort to be logical and articulate. 
< Now — well, look at the chart. No, better still,ypok first 

at this map of Germany. It's on a small scale, and you 

e2 



84 THE RIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

can see the whole thing.' He snatched down a pocket-map 
from the shelf and unfolded It.^ ' Here's this hnge empire, 
stretching half over central Europe — an empure growing like 

. wildfire, I belieye, in people, and wealth, and everything. 

I They've Ucked the French and the Austrians, and are the 
greatest military power in Europe. I wish I knew more about 
all that, but what I'm concerned with is their sea-power. It's 
anewthingwith them, but it's going strong, and that Emperor 
of theirs is running it for all it's worth. He's a splendid 
chap, and anyone can see he's right. They've got no 
colonies to speak of, and must have them, like us. They 
can't get them and keep them, and they can't protect their 
huge commerce without naval strength. The command ot 

^ the sea is the thing nowadays, isn't it ? I say, don't think 

^ these are my ideas,' he added naively. 'It's all out of 

Mahan and those fellows. Well, the Germans have got a 

small fleet at present, but it*s a thundering good one, and 

they're building hard. There's the and the ,' he 

broke off into a digression on armaments and speeds in 
which I could not follow him. He seemed to know every 
ship by heart. I had to recall him to the point. ' Well, 
think of Oermany as a new sea-power,' he resumed. * The 
next thing is. What is her coast-line ? It's a very queer 
one, as you know, spUt clean in two by Denmark, most of 
it lying east of that and looking on the Baltic, which is 
practically an inland sea, with its entrance blocked by 
Danish islands. It was to evade that block that William 
built the ship canal from Kiel to the Elbe, but that could 
be easily smashed in war time. Far the most important 
bit of coast-line is that which lies west of Denmark and 
looks on the North Sea. It's there that Germany gets her 
head out into the open, so to speak. It's there that she 
fronts us and France, the two great sea-powers of Western 
Europe, and it's there that her greatest ports are and her 
richest commerce. 

* See Frontispieoe. 



THE THEOBT 88 

'Now it must strike you at onoe that it's ridionlously 
short compared with the huge country behind it. From 
Borkum to the Elbe as the crow flies is only seventy miles. 
Add to that the west coast of Schleswig, say 120 miles ; 
total, say, 200. Compare that with the seaboard of France 
and England. Doesn't it stand to reason that every inch 
of it is important ? Now what sort of coast is it ? Even 
on this small map you can see at once, by all those wavy 
lines, shoals and sand everywhere, blocking nine-tenths of 
the land altogether, and doing their best to block the other 
tenth where the great rivers run in. Now let's take it bit 
by bit. You see it divides itself into three. Beginning 
from the west the first piece is from Borkum to Wangeroog 
— $0 odd miles. What's that Hke? A string of sandy islands 
backed by sand : the Ems river at the western end, on the 
Dutch border, leading to Emden — not much of a place. 
Otherwise, no coast-towns at all. Second piece : a deep sort 
of bay consisting of the three great estuaries — the Jade, the 
Weserand the Elbe, leading to Wilhelmshaven (their North 
Sea naval base), Bremen and Hamburg ; total breadth of bay, 
twenty odd miles only ; sandbanks littered about all through 
it. Third piece : the Schleswig coast, hopelessly fenced in 
behind a six to eight mile fringe of sand. No big towns ; 
one moderate river, the Eider. Let's leave that third piece 
aside. I may be wrong, but, in thinking this business out, 
I've pegged away chiefly at the other two, the seventy mile 
stretch from Borkum to the Elbe — half of it estuaries, and 
half islands. It was there that I found the '' Medusa," and 
it's that stretch that, thanks to him, I missed exploring.' 

I made an obvious conjecture. 'I suppose there are 
forts and coast defences ; perhaps he thought you would see 
too much. By the way, he saw your naval books, of 
course?' 

' Exactly, of course that was my first idea ; but it can't 
be that. It doesn't explain things in the least. To begin 
with, there are no forts and can be none in that first 



86 THE RTODLE OP THE BANDS 

diyision, where the islands are. There might be something 
on Borkum to defend the Ems ; but it's very nnlikely, and, 
anyway, I had passed Borkum and was at Norderney. 
There's nothing else to defend. Of course it's different in 
the second division where the big rivers are. There are 
probably hosts of forts and mines round Wilhelmshaven 
and Bremerhaven, and at Cuxhaven just at the mouth of 
the Elbe. Not that I should ever dream of bothering 
about them ; every steamer that goes in would see as much 
as me. Personally, I much prefer to stay on board, and 
don't often go on shore. And, good heavens 1 ' (Davies 
leant back and laughed joyously) ' do I ZooA; like that kind 
of spy?' 

I figured to myself one of those romantic gentlemen 
that one reads of in sixpenny magazines, with a kodak in 
his tie-pin, a sketchbook in the lining of his coat, and a 
selection of disguises in his hand luggage. Little disposed 
for merriment as I was, I could not help smiling too. 

' About this coast,' resumed Davies. ' In the event of 
war it seems to me that every inch of it would be important, 
sand and all. Take the big estuaries first, which of course 
might be attacked or blockaded by an enemy. At first 
sight you would say that their main channels were the 
only things that mattered. Now, in time of peace there's 
no secrecy about the navigation of these. They're buoyed 
and hghted like streets, open to the whole world, and 
taking an immense traffic ; well charted too, as millions of 
pounds in commerce depend on them. But now look at 
the sands they run through, intersected, as I showed you, 
by threads of channels, tidal for the most part, and pro- 
bably only known to smacks and shallow coasters Uke that 
galliot of Bartels. 

' It strikes me that '\a a war a lot might depend on 
these, both in defence and attack, for there's plenty of 
water in them at the right tide for patrol-boats and small 
torpedo craft, though I can see they take a lot ci knowing. 



THE THEORY 87 

Now, say we were at war with Germany : both sides oould 
use them as links between the three estuaries ; and to take 
our own case, a small torpedo-boat (not a destroyer, mind 
you) oould on a dark night out olean through from the 
Jade to the Elbe and play the deuoe with the shipping there. 
But the trouble is that I doubt if there's a soul in our fleet 
who knows those channels. We haven't coasters there ; 
and, as to yachts, it's a most unlikely game for an English 
yacht to play at, but it does so happen that I have a fancy 
for that sort of thing and would have explored those 
channels in the ordinary course.' I began to see his drift. 

* Now for the islands. I was rather stumped there at 
first, I grant, because, though there are lashings of sand 
behind them and the same sort of intersecting channels, yet 
there seems nothing important to guard or attack. 

' Why shouldn't a stranger-ramble as he pleases through 
them? Still Dollmann had his headquarters there, and I was 
sure that had some meaning. Then it struck me that the 
same point held good, for that strip of Frisian coast adjoins 
the estuaries and would also form a splendid base for raiding 
midgets, which could travel unseen right through from the 
Ems to the Jade and so to the Elbe, as by a covered way 
between a line of forts. 

' Now here again it's an unknown land to us. Plenty of 
local galliots travel it, but strangers never, I should say. 
Perhaps at the most an occasional foreign yacht gropes in 
at one of the gaps between the islands for shelter from bad 
weather, and is precious lucky to get in safe. Once again, 
it was my fad to like such places, and Dollmann cleared me 
out. He's not a German, but he's in with Germans, and 
naval Germans too. He's established on that coast and 
knows it by heart. And he tried to drown me. Now what 
do you think ? ' He gazed at me long and anxiously. 



88 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB IX 

I SIGN ABTIOLBS 

It was not an easy question to answer, for the affidr was 
utterly outside all my experience ; its background the sea, 
and its actual scene a region of the sea of which I was 
blankly ignorant. There were other difficulties that I 
could see perhaps better than Davies, an enthusiast with 
hobbies, who had been brooding in solitude over his 
dangerous adventure. Yet both narrative and theory 
(which have lost, I fear, in interpretation to the reader) had 
strongly affected me; his forcible roughnesses, tricks of 
manner, sudden bursts of ardour, sudden retreats into shy- 
ness making up a charm I cannot render. I found myseU 
continually trying to see the man through the boy, to 
distinguish sober judgment from the hot-headed vagaries of 
youth. Not that I dreamed for a moment of dismissing 
the story of his wreck as an hallucination. His clear blue 
eyes and sane simplicity threw ridicule on such treatment. 

Evidently, too, he wanted my help, a matter that might 
well have influenced my opinion on the facts, had he been 
other than he was. But it would have taken a ' finished 
and finite clod ' to resist the attraction of the man and the 
enterprise ; and I take no credit whatever for deciding to 
follow him, right or wrong. So, when I stated my difii« 
culties, I knew very well that we should go. 

' There are two main points that I don't understand,' I 
said. ' First, you've never explained why an Englishman 
should be watching those waters and ejecting intruders; 



{ 



■^w 



I SIGN AETICLES 89 

secondly, your theory doesn't supply sufficient motive. 
There may he much in what you say about the navigation of 
those channels, but it's not enough. You say he wanted to 
drown you — a big charge, requiring a hig motive to support 
it. But I don't deny that you've got a strong case.' Davies 
lighted up. ' I'm willing to take a good deal for granted — 
until we find out more.' 

He jumped up, and did a thing I never saw him do 
before or since, bumped his head against the cabin roof. 

* You mean that you'll come ? ' he exclaimed. * Why, I 
hadn't even asked you 1 Yes, I want to go back and clear 
up the whole thing. I know now that I want to ; telling 
it all to you has been such an immense relief. And a lot 
depended on you too, and that's where I've been feeling 
such an absolute hypocrite. I say, how can I apologise ? ' 

' Don't worry about me, I've had a splendid time. And 
I'll come right enough ; but I should like to know exactly 
what you ' 

* No ; but wait till I just make a clean breast of it — about 
you, I mean. You see I came to the conclusion that I 
could do nothing alone ; not that two are really necessary 
for managing the boat in the ordinary way, but for this 
sort of job you do want two ; besides, I can't speak German 
properly and I'm a dull chap all round. If my theory, as 
you call it, is right, it's a case for sharp wits if ever there 
was one ; so I thought of you. You're clever, and I knew 
you had lived in Germany and knew German, and I knew,' 
he added with a little awkwardness, ' that you had done a 
good deal of yachting ; but of course I ought to have told 
you what you were in for — roughing it in a small boat with 
no crew. I felt ashamed of myself when you wired back so 
promptly, and when you came — er — ' Davies stammered 
and hesitated in the humane resolve not to wound my 
feelings. 'Of course I couldn't help noticing that — it 
wasn't what you expected,' was the delicate summary he 
arcLved at. 'But you took it splendidly,' he hastened to 



90 THE RIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

add. ' Only, somehow, I conldn't bring myself to talk about 
the plan. It was good enough of you to come out at all, 
without bothering you with hare-brained schemes. Besides, 
I wasn't even sure of myself. It's a tangled business. 
There were reasons, there are reasons still' — ^he looked 
nervously at me — ' which — well, which make it a tangled 
business.' I had thought a confidence was coming and 
was disappointed. ' I was in an idiotic state of uncertainty,' 
he hurried on ; ' but the plan grew on me more and more, 
when I saw how you were taking to the Hf e and beginning 
to enjoy yourself. All that about the ducks on the 
Frisian coast was humbug ; part of a stupid idea of decoy- 
ing you there and gaining time. However, you quite 
naturally objected, and last night I meant to chuck the 
whole thing up and give you the best time here I could. 
Then Bartels turned up ' 

* Stop,' I put in, ' did you know he might turn up when 
you sailed here ? ' 

' Yes,' said Davies guiltily, * I knew he might ; and now 
it's all come out, and you'll come 1 What a fool I've been 1 ' 

Long before he had finished I had grasped the whole 
meaning of the last few days, and had read their meaning 
into scores of little incidents which had puzzled me. 

'For goodness' sake, don't apologise,' I protested. 'I 
could make confessions, too, if I liked. And I doubt if 
you've been such a fool as you think. I'm a patient that 
wants careful nursing, and it has been the merest chance 
all through that I haven't rebelled and bolted. We've got 
a good deal to thank the weather for, and other little stimu- 
lants. And you don't know yet my reasons for deciding to 
try your cure at all.' 

' My cure ? ' said Davies, ' what in the world do you 
mean ? It was jolly decent of you to ' 

' Never mind I there's another view of it, but it doesn't 
matter now. Let's return to the point. What's your plan 
of action ? ' 



J 



I SIGN ARTICLES 91 

' It's this,' was the prompt reply, ' to get back to the 
North Sea, vid Kiel and the ship canal. Then there will 
be two objects : one, to work back to Nordemey, where I 
left off before, exploring all those channels throngh the 
estuaries and islands ; the other, to find DoUmann, discover 
what he's up to, and settle with him. The two things may 
overlap, we can't tell yet. I don^t even know where he and 
his yacht are ; but I'll be bound they're somewhere in those 
same waters, and probably back at Nordemey.' 

'It's a delicate matter,' I mused dul)iously, 'if your 
theory's correct. Spying on a spy ' 

'It's not like that,' said Davies, indignantly. 'Any- 
one who likes can sail about there and explore those waters. 
I say, you don't really think it's like that, do you ? ' 

' I don't think you're likely to do anything dishonour- 
able,' I hastened to explain. ' I grant you the sea's public 
property in your sense. I only mean that developments are 
possible which you don't reckon on. There miLst be more 
to find out than the mere navigation of those channels, and if 
that's so, mightn't we come to be genuine spies ourselves? * 

' And, after all, hang it 1 ' exclaimed Davies, ' if it comes 
to that, why shouldn't we ? I look at it like this. The 
man's an Englishman, and if he's in with Germany he's a 
traitor to us, and we as Englishmen have a right to expose 
him. If we can't do it without spying we've a right to spy, 
at our own risk ' 

' There's a stronger argument than that. He tried to 
take your life.' 

'I don't care a rap about that. I'm not such an ass 
as to thirst for revenge and all that, like some chap in a 
shilling shocker. But it makes me wild to think of that 
fellow masquerading as a German, and up to who knows 
what mischief — mischief enough to make him want to get 
rid of any one. I'm keen about the sea, and I think they're 
apt to be a bit slack at home,' he continued inconsequently. 
' Those Admiralty chaps want waking up. Anyway, as far 



92 THE REDDLE OF THE SANDS 

as I'm oonoemed, it's quite natnial that I should look him 
up again.' 

' Quite,' I agreed ; ' you parted friends, and they may be 
delighted to see you. You'll have plenty to talk about.' 

' H'm,' said Davies, withered into silence by the ' they.' 
* Hullo I I say, do you know it's three o'clock ? How the 
time has gone t And, by Jove, I believe the fog's lifting.' 

I returned, with a shock, to the present, to the weeping 
walls, the discoloured deal table, the ghastly breakfast 
litter — ^all the visible symbols of the life I had pledged my- 
self to. Disillusionment was making rapid headway when 
Davies returned and said with energy : 

'What do you say to starting for Kiel at oncef 
the fog's going, and there's a breeze from the sou'-west.' 

' Now ? ' I protested. ' Why, it'll mean sailing all night, 
won't it ? ' 

* Oh, no,' said Davies. ' Not with luck.' 

< Why, it's dark at seven 1 ' 

' Yes, but it's only twenty-five miles. I know it's not 
exactly a fair wind, but we shall lie closehauled most of 
the way. The glass is falling, and we ought to take this 
chance.' 

To argue about winds with Davies was hopeless, and the 
upshot was that we started lunchless. A pale sun was 
i9ickering out of masses of racing vapour, and through 
delicate vistas between them the fair land of Schleswig 
now revealed and now withdrew her pretty face, as though 
smiling adieux to her faithless courtiers. 

The clank of our chain brought up Bartels to the deck 
of the ' Johannes,' rubbing his eyes and pulling round his 
throat a grey shawl, which gave him a comical likeness to a 
lodging house landlady receiving the milk in morning 
d^shabilU. 

'We're off, Bartels,' said Davies, without looking up 
from his work. ' See you at Kiel, I hope.' 

' You are always in a hurry, Captain,' bleated the old 



I SIGN ABTICLES 98 

man, Bhaking his head. ' Tou should waifc till to-morrow. 
The sky is not good, and it will be dark before you are off 
Eckenforde.' 

Davies laughed, and very soon his mentor's sad little 
figure was lost in haze. 

That was a curious evening. Dusk soon fell, and the 
devil made a determined effort to unman me, first, with the 
scrambled tea which was the tardy substitute for an orderly 
lunch, then with the new and nauseous duty of filling the 
side-lights, which meant squatting in the foc'sle to inhale 
parafGin and dabble in lamp-black ; lastly, with an all-round 
attack on my nerves as the night f dl on our frail little vessel, 
pitching on her precarious way through driving mist. In 
a sense I think I went through the same sort of mental crisis 
as when I sat upon my portmanteau at Flensburg. The main 
issue was not seriously in question, for I had signed on in 
the ' Dulcibella ' for good or ill ; but in doing so I had out- 
run myself, and still wanted an outlook, a mood suited to 
the enterprise, proof against petty discouragements. Not 
for the first time a sense of the ludicrous came to my assist- 
ance, as I saw myself fretting in London under my burden 
of self-imposed woes, nicely weighing that- insidious invita- 
tion, and stepping finally into the snare with the dignity 
due to my importance ; kidnapped as neatly as ever a peace- 
ful clerk was kidnapped by a lawless press-gang, and, in the 
end, finding as the arch-conspirator a guileless and warm- 
hearted friend, who called me clever, lodged me in a ceH, 
and blandly invited me to talk German to the purpose, as 
he was aiming at a little secret service on the high seas. 
Close in the train of Humour came Bomance, veiUng her 
face, but I knew it was the rustle of her robes that I heard 
in the foam beneath me ; I knew that it was she who handed 
me the cup of sparkling wine and bade me drink and be 
zherry. Strange to me though it was, I knew the taste 
when it touched my lips. It was not that bastard concoc* 
tion I had tasted in the pseudo-Bohemiais of Soho *, it was \ 



94 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

not the showy bat insipid beverage I should have drunk my 
fill of at Morven Lodge ; it was the purest of her pure 
vintages, instilling the ancient inspiration which, under 
many guises, quickens thousands of better brains than mine^ 
but whose essence is always the same : the gay pursuit of a 
perilous quest. Then and there I tried to clinch the matter 
and keep that mood. In the main I think I succeeded, 
though I had many lapses. 

For the present my veins tingled with the draught. 
The wind humming into the main-sail, the ghostly wave- 
crests riding up out of the void, whispered a low thrilling 
chorus in praise of adventure. Potent indeed must the 
spell have been, for, in reality, that first night sail teemed 
with terrors for me. It is kue that it began well, for the 
haze dispersed, as Davies had prophesied, and Bulk Point 
Lighthouse guided us safely to the mouth of Kiel Fiord. 
It was during this stage that, crouching together aft, our 
pipe-bowls glowing sympathetically, we returned to the 
problem before us ; for we had shot out on our quest with 
volcanic precipitation, leaving much to be discussed. I 
gleaned a few more facts, though I dispelled no doubts. 
Davies had only seen the Dollmanns on their yacht, where 
father and daughter were living for the time. Their villa 
at Nordemey, and their home Hf e there, were unknown to 
him, though he had landed once at the harbour himself. 
Further, he had heard vaguely of a stepmother, absent at 
Hamburg. They were to have joined her on their arrival 
at that dty, which, be it noted, stands a long way up the 
Elbe, forty miles and more above Ouxhaven, the town at 
the mouth. 

The exact arrangement made on the day before the fatal 
voyage was, that the two yachts should meet in the evening 
at Cuxhaven and proceed up the river together. Then, in 
the ordinary course, Davies would have parted company at 
Brunsbiittel (fifteen miles up), which is the western terminus 
of the ship canal to the Baltic. Such at least had been his 



V 



I SIGN ARTICLES 95 

originAl intentioii ; but, putting two and two together, I 
gathered that latterly, and perhaps nnoonf essed to himseli, 
his resolve had weakened, and that he would have followed 
the ' Medusa ' to Hamburg, or indeed the end of the world, 
impelled by the same motive that, contrary to all his tastes 
and principles, had induced him to abandon his life in the 
islands and undertake the voyage at all. • But on that point 
he was immovably reticent, and all I could conclude was 
that the strange cross-current connected with Dollmann's 
daughter had given him cruel pain and had clouded his 
judgment to distraction, but that he now was prepared to 
forget or ignore it, and steer a settled course. 

The ftkcts I elicited raised several important questions. 
Was it not known by this time that he and his yacht had 
survived? Davies was convinced that it was not. 'He 
may have waited at Cuxhaven or inquired at the lock at 
Brunsbtittel,' he said. ' But there was no need, for I tell 
you the thing was a certainty. If I had struck and stuck 
on that outer bank, as it was a hundred to one I should do, 
the yacht would have broken up in three minutes. Bartels 
would never have seen me, and couldn't have got to me if 
he had. No one would have seen me. And nothing what- 
ever has happened since to show that they know I'm alive.* 

'They,' I suggested. 'Who are "they?" Who are 
our adversaries ? ' If Dollmann were an accredited agent 

of the German Admiralty But, no, it was incredible 

that the murder of a young Englishman should be connived 
at in modem days by a friendly and civilised govern- 
ment t Yet, if he was not such an agent, the whole theory 
fell to the ground. 

'I believe,' said Davies, 'that Dollmann did it off his 
own bat, and beyond that I can't see. And I don't know 
that it matters at present. AHve or dead, we're doing 
nothing wrong, and have nothing to be ashamed of.' 

' I think it matters a good deal,' I objected. ' Who will 
be interested in our resurrection, and how are we to go to 



96 THE RIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

work, openly or secretly ? I suppose we shall keep oat of 
the way as much as we can ? ' 

'As for keeping out of the way/ said Davies jerkily, 
as he peered to windward under the foresail, 'we mtist 
pass the ship canal; that's a public highway, where any 
one can see you. After that there won't be much difficulty. 
Wait till you see the place ! ' He gave a low, contented 
laugh, which would have frozen my marrow yesterday. 
* By the way, that reminds me,' he added ; ' we must stop 
at Kiel for the inside of a day and lay in a lot of stores. 
We want to be independent of the shore.' I said nothing. 
Independence of the shore in a seven-tonner in October ! 
What an end to aim at I 

About nine o'clock we weathered the point, entered 
Kiel Fiord, and began a dead beat to windward of seven 
miles to the head of it where Kiel lies. Hitherto, save for 
latent qualms concerning my total helplessness if anything 
happened to Davies, interest and excitement had upheld me 
well. My alarms only began when I thought them nearly 
over. Davies had frequently urged me to turn in and sleep, 
and I went so far as to go below and coil myself up on the 
lee sofa with my pencil and diary. Suddenly there was a 
flapping and rattling on deck, and I began to slide on to 
the floor. ' What'B happened ? ' I cried, in a panic, for 
there was Davies stooping in at the cabin door. 

* Nothing,' he said, chafing his hands for warmth ; ' I'm 
only going about. Hand me the glasses, will you ? There's 
) a steamer ahead. I say, if you really don't want to turn in, 
you might make some soup. Just let's look at the chart.' 
He studied i% with maddening deliberation, while I wondered 
how near the steamer was, and what the yacht was doing 
meanwhile. 

' I suppose it's not really necessary for anyone to be at 
the helm ? ' I remarked. 

'Oh, she's all right for a minute,' he said, without 
looking wg. 'Two — one and a half — one — lighte in line 



I SIGN ARTICLES 97 

floii'-west by west — got a match ? ' He expended two, and 
tumbled upstairs again. 

* You don't want me, do you ? ' I shouted after him. 

' No, but come up when you've put the kettle on. It's 
a pretty beat up the fiord. Lovely breeze.' 

His legs disappeared. A sort of buoyant fatalism 
possessed me as I finished my notes and pored over the 
stove. It upheld me too when I went on deck and watched 
the * pretty beat/ whose prettiness was mainly due to the 
crowd of fog-bound shipping — steamers, smacks, and 
sailing-vessels — now once more on the move in the confined 
fairway of the fiord, their baleful eyes of red, green, or 
yellow, opening and shutting, brighteiung and fading; 
while shore-lights and anchor-lights added to my bewilder- 
ment, and a throbbing of screws filled the air like the 
distant roar of London streets. In fact, every time we 
spun round for our dart across the fiord I felt like a rustic 
matron gathering her skirts for the transit of the Strand 
on a busy night. Davies, however, was the street arab 
who zigzags under the horses' feet unscathed ; and all the 
time he discoursed placidly on the simplicity and safety of 
night-sailing if only you were careful, obeyed rules, and 
burnt good lights. As we were nearing the hot glow in the 
sky that denoted Kiel we passed a huge scintillating bulk 
*^ moored in mid-stream. * Warships,' he murmured ecsta- 
tically. 

At one o'clock we anchored off the town. 



98 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB X 

HIS OHAKOH 

' I BAT» Daviea,' I said, * hov long do yoa think this trip 
will last ? I've only got a month's leave.' 

We were standing at slanting desks in the Kiel post- 
office, Davies scratching diligently at his letter-card and I 
staring feebly at mine. 

*By Jove ! ' aaid Davies with a start of dismay, * that's 
only three weeks more; I never thought of that. Yon 
couldn't manage to get an extension, could you ? ' 

' I can write to ^e Chief,' I admitted ; * but where's the 
answer to come to ? We're better without an address, I 
suppose.' 

'There's Guxhaven,' reflected Davies; 'but that's too 
near, and there's — but we don't want to be tied down to 
landing anywhere. I tell you what, say 'Tost Office^ 
Norderney," just your name, not the yacht's. We may get 
there and be able to call for letters.' The casual character 
of our adventure never struck me more strongly than then. 

* Is that what you*re doing 7 ' I asked. 

' Oh, I sha'n't be having important letters like you.' 

* But what are you saying ? ' 

* Oh, just that we're having a splendi^cruise, and are on 
our way home.' 

The notion tickled me, and I said the same in my home 
letter, adding that we were looking for a friend of Davies's 
who would be able to show us some sport. I wrote a line. 



HIS GHANOB 99 

too, to my Chief (unaware of the gravity of the step I waa 
takixig) (saying it was possible that I might have to apply 
for longer leave, as I had important business to transact in 
Germany, and asking him kindly to write to the same 
address. Then we shouldered our parcels and resumed our 
business. 

Two full dinghy-loads of stores we ferried to the 
* DuldbeUa,' chief among which were two immense cans of 
petroleum, constituting our reserves of heat and light, and 
a sack of flour. There were spare ropes and blocks too; 
German charts of excellent quality; cigars and many weird 
brands of sausage and tinned meats, besides a miscellany 
of oddments, some of which only served in the end to slake 
my companion's craving for jettison. Glothes were my 
own chief care, for, freely as I had purged it at Flensburg, 
my wardrobe was still very unsuitable, and I had already 
irretrievably damaged two faultless pairs of white flannels. 
(' We shall be able to throw them overboard,' said Davies 
hopefully.) So I bought a great pair of the sea-boots of 
the country, felt-lined and wooden-soled, and both of us 
got a number of rough woollen garments (as worn by the 
local fishermen), breeches, jerseys, helmets, gloves ; all of 
a colour chosen to harmonise with paraffin stains and 
anchor mud. 

The same evening we were taking our last look at the 
Baltic, sailing past warships and groups of idle yachts 
battened down for their winter's sleep; while the noble 
shores of the fiord, with its villas embowered in copper 
foliage, grew dark and dim above us. 

We rounded the last headland, steered for a galaxy of 
coloured lights, tumbled down our sails, and came to under 
the colossal gates of the Holtenau lock. That these would 
open to such an infinitesimal suppliant seemed inconceiv- 
able. But open they did, with ponderous majesty, and our 
tiny hull was lost in the womb of a lock designed to float 
the largest battleships. I thought of Boulter's on a hot 

h2 



100 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

August Sunday, and wondered if I really was the same 
peevish dandy who had jostled and sweltered there with the 
noisy Cockney throng a month ago. There was a blaze of 
electricity overhead, but utter silence till a solitary cloaked 
figure hailed us and called for the captain. Davies ran up 
a ladder, disappeared with the cloaked figure, and returned 
crumpling a paper into his pocket* It lies before me now 
and sets forth, under the stamp of the Ednigliehes Zoll- 
amt, that, in consideration of the sum of ten marks for 
dues and four for tonnage, an imperial tug would tow the 
vessel 'Dulcibella' (master A. H. Davies) through the 
Eaiser Wilhelm canal from Holtenau to Brunsbiittel. 
Magnificent condescension 1 I blush when I look at this 
yellow document and remember the stately courtesy of the 
ffreat lock gates ; for the sleepy officials of the Eonigliches 
ZoUamt little knew what an insidious little viper they 
were admitting into the imperial bosom at the light toll of 
fourteen shillings. 

'Seems cheap,' said Davies, joining me, 'doesn't it? 
They've a regular tariff on tonnage, same for yachts as for 
liners. We start at four to-morrow with a lot of other 
boats. I wonder if Bartels is here.' 

The same silence reigned, but invisible forces were at 
work. The inner gates opened and we prised ourselves 
through into a capacious basin, where lay moored side by side 
a flotiUa of sailing vessels of various sizes. Having made 
fast alongside a vacant space of quay, we had our dinner, 
and then strolled out with cigars to look for the 'Johannes.' 
We found her wedged among a stack of galliots and her 
skipper, sitting primly below before a blazing stove, reading 
his Bible through spectacles. He produced a bottle of 
schnapps and some very small and hard pears, while Davies 
twitted him mercilessly about his false predictions. 

' The sky was not good,' was all he said, beaming 
indulgently at his incorrigible young friend. 

Before parting for the night it was arranged that next 



HIS CHANCE 101 

moming we should lash alongside the 'Johannes* when 
the flotilla was marshalled for the tow through the oanal. 

'Earl shall steer for ns both/ he said, 'and we will 
stay warm in the cabin.' 

The scheme was carried out, not without much joon* 
fusion and loss of paint, in the small hours of a dark and 
drizzling morning. Boisterous little tugs sorted us into 
parties, and half lost under the massive bulwarks of the 
' Johannes ' we were carried off into a black inane. If any 
doubt remained as to the significance of our change of 
cruising-grounds, dawn dispelled it. View there was none 
from the deck of the * Dulcibella ' ; it was only by standing 
on the mainboom that you could see over the embankments 
to the vast plain of Holstein, grey and monotonous under 
a pall of mist. The soft scenery of the Schleswig coast 
was a baseless dream of the past, and a cold penetrating 
rain added the last touch of dramatic completeness to the 
staging of the new act. 

For two days we travelled slowly up the mighty water- 
way that is the strategic link between the two seas of 
Germany. Broad and straight, massively embanked, lit 
by electricity at night tiU it is lighter than many a great 
f London street ; traversed by great war vessels, rich mer- 
chantmen, and humble coasters alike, it is a symbol of the 
new and mighty force which, controlled by the genius of 
statesmen and engineers, is thrusting the Empire irresis- 
tibly forward to the goal of maritime greatness. 

'Isn't it splendid?' said Davies. 'He's a fine fellow, 
that Emperor.' 

Earl was the shock-headed, stout-limbed boy of about 
sixteen, who constituted the whole crew of the ' Johannes,' 
and was as dirty as his master was clean. I felt a certain 
envious reverence for this unprepossessing youth, seeing in 
him a much more efficient counterpart of myself ; but how 
he and his little master ever managed to work their un- 
gainly vessel was a miracle I never understood. Phleg- 



102 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

matically imperyioos to ram and oold, he steered the 
* Johannes ' down the long grey reaches in the wake of the 
tog, while we and Bartels held snng gatherings down below, 
sometimes in his cabin, sometimes in ours. The heating 
arrangements of the latter began to be a subject of serions 
concern. We finally did the only logical thing, and brought 
the kitchen-range into the parlour, fixing the Bippingill 
stove on the forward end of the cabin-table, where it could 
warm as well as cook for us. As an ornament it was 
monstrous, and the taint of oil which it introduced was a 
disgusting drawback; but, after all, the great thing — as 
Davies said — ^is to be comfortable and after that to be 
clean. 

Davies held long consultations with Bartela, who was 
thoroughly at home in the navigation of the sands we were 
bound for, his own boat being a type of the very craft 
which ply in them. I shall not forget the moment when it 
first dawned on him that his young friend's curiosity was 
practical ; for he had thought that our goal was his own 
beloved Hamburg, queen of cities, a place to see and die. 

' It is too lat^' he wailed. ' You do not know the Nord 
See as I do.' 
, * Oh, nonsense, Bartels, it's quite safe.' 

* Safe 1 And have I not found you fast on the Hohen- 
h5m, in a storm, with your rudder broken? God was 
good to you then, my son I ' 

* Yes, but it wasn't my f ' Davies checked himself. 

'We're going home. There's nothing in that.' Bartels 
became sadly resigned. 

* It is good that you have a friend,' was his last word on 
the subject ; but all the same he always glanced at me with 
a rather doubtful eye. As to Davies and myself our friend- 
ship developed quickly on certain limited lines, the chief 
obstacle, as I well know now, being his reluctance to talk 
about the personal side of our quest. 

On the other hand I spoke about my own life and 



HIS OHANOE 108 

interoBis, with an unsparing disoemment, of which I should 
have been incapable a month ago, and in return I gained 
the key to his own character. It was devotion to the sea, 
wedded to a fire of pent-up patriotism struggling inces- \'\ 
santly for an outlet in strenuous physical expression ; a 
humility^ bom of acute sensitiveness to his own limitations, 
only adding fuel to the flame. I learnt for the first time ^ 
now that in early youth he had failed for the Navy, the first ^ 
of several failures in his career. ' And I can't settle down 
to anything else,' he said. ' I read no end about it and yet I 
am a useless outsider. All I've been able to do is to potter 
about in small boats ; but it's all been wasted till this 
chance cama I'm afraid you'U not understand how I feel 
about it ; but at last, for once in a way, I see a chance of 
being useful.' 

* There ought to be chances for chaps like you ' I said, 
* without the accident of a job such as this.' 

* Oh, as long as I get it, what matter 7 But I know 
what you mean. There must be hundreds of chaps like 
me — ^I know a good many myself — who know our coasts 
like a book — shoals, creeks, tides, rocks ; there's nothing 
in it, it's only practice. They ought to make some use of 
us as a naval reserve. They tried to once, but it fizzled out, 
and nobody really cares. And what's the result ? Using ' '*' 
every man of what reserves we've got, there's about enough 

to man the fleet on a war footing, and no more. They've 
tinkered with fishermen and merchant sailors and yachting 
hands, but every one of them ought to be got hold of ; and 
the colonies too. Is there the ghost of a doubt that if war 
broke out there'd be wild appeals for volunteers, aimless 
cadging, hurry, confusion, waste ? My own idea is that we 
ought to go much further and train every able-bodied man 
for a couple q) years as a sailor. Army ? Oh, I suppose 
you'd have to give them the choice. Not that I know or 
care much about the Army, though to listen to people talk 
you'd think it really mattered as the Navy matters. We're 



104 THE BEDDLB OP THE SANDS. 

a maritime nation — we've grown by the sea and live by 
it; if we lose command of it we starve. We're unique 
in that way, just as our huge Empire, only linked by the 
sea, is unique. And yet, read Brassey, Dilke, and those 
'' Naval Annuals," and see what mounlains of apathy and 
conceit have had to be tackled. It's not the people's fault. 
We've been safe so long, and grown so rich, that we've f or- 
^ gotten what we owe it to. But there's no excuse for those 
blockheads of statesmen, as they call themselves, who are 
paid to see things as they are. They had to go to an 
American to learn their ABC, and it's only when kicked 
and punched by civilian agitators, a mere handful of men 
who get sneered at for their pains, that they wake up, do 
some work, point proudly to it and go to sleep again, till 
* : they get another kick. By Jove, we want a man like this 
Kaiser, who doesn't wait to be kicked, but works like a 
*\ nigger for his country and sees ahead.' 

* We're improving, aren't we ? ' 

'Oh, of course we arel But it's a constant uphill 
fight; and we aren't ready. They talk of a two-power 

standard ' he plunged away into regions where space 

forbids me to follow him. This is only a sample of many 
similar conversations that we afterwards held, always cul- 
minating in the burning question of Germany. Far from 
including me and the Foreign Olffice among his targets for 
vague invective, he had a profound respect for my sagacity 
and experience as a member of that institution ; a respect 
which embarrassed me not a littie when I thought of my 
priciS'Wnting and cigarette-smoking, my dancing and my 
dining. But I did know something of Germany, and could 
> satisfy his tireless questioning with a certain authority. 
He used to Usten rapt while I described her marvellous 
awakening in the last generation, under the strength and 
wisdom of her rulers ; her intense patriotic ardour ; her 
seething industrial activity, and, most potent of all the 
forces that are moulding modem Europe, her dream of a 



^'^'^ 



HIS CHANGE lOS 

Coloxdal Empire, entailing her transformation from a land- 
power to a sea-power. Impregnably based on vast terri- 
torial resources which we cannot molest, the dim instincts 
of her people not merely directed but anticipated by the 
genius of her ruling house, our great trade rival of the 
present, our great naval rival of the future, she grows and 
strengthens and waits, an ever more formidable factor in 
the future of our delicate network of Empire, sensitive as 
gossamer to external shocks, and radiating from an island 
whose commerce is its life and which depends even for its ■ 
daily ration of bread on the free passage of the seas. J 

'And we aren't ready for her,' Davies would say ; ' we 
don't look her way. We have no naval base in the North 
Sea, and no North Sea Fleet. Our best battle-ships are too 
deep in draught for North Sea work. And, to crown all, 
we were asses enough to give her Heligoland, which com- 
mands her North Sea coast. And supposing she collars 
Holland ; isn't there some talk of that ? ' 

That would lead me to describe the swollen ambitions 
of the Pan-Oermanic party, and its ceaseless intrigues to 
promote the absorption of Austria, Switzerland and — a 
direct and flagrant menace to ourselves — of Holland. 

■ 'I don't blame them,' said Davies, who, for all his 
patriotism, had not a particle of racial spleen in his 
composition. 'I don't blame them: their Bhine ceases • 
to be (German just when it begins to be most valuable. 
The mouth is Dutch, and would give them magnificent 
ports just opposite British shores. We can't talk about * • 
conquest and grabbing. We've collared a fine share of ; 
the world, and they've every right to be jealous. Let . 
them hate us, and say so ; it'll teach us to buck up, and 
that's what really matters.' 

In these talks there occurred a singular contact of 
minds. It was very well for me to spin sonorous generali- 
ties, but I had never till now dreamed of being so vulgar 
as to translate them into practice. I had always detested 



106 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

the meddlesome ftlannist who veils ignorance nnder noisi- 
ness and for ever wails his chant of lagnhrioos pessimism. 
To be thrown with Davies was to receive a shbck of 
enlightenment, for here, at least, was a specimen of the 
breed who exacted respect. It is true he made use of 
the nsnal jargon, interlarding his stammering sentences 
(sometimes, when he was excited, with the oddest effect) 
with the conventional catchwords of the journalist and 
platform-speaker. Bat these were but accidents; for he 
seemed to have caught his innermost conviction from the 
very soul of the sea itself. An arm-chair critic is one 
thing, but a sun-burnt, brine-burnt zealot smarting under 
a personal discontent, athirst for a means, however tor- 
tuous, of contributing his effort to the great cause, the 
maritime supremacy of Britain, that was quite another >y 
thing. He drew inspiration from the very wind and spray. 
He communed with his tiller, I believe, and niarshalled his 
figures with its help. To hear him talk was to feel a 
current of clarifying air blustering into a close club-room, 
where men bandy ineffectual platitudes and mumble old 
shibboleths and go away and do nothing. 

In our talk about policy and strategy we were Bis- 
marcks and Bodneys, wielding nations and navies ; and, 
indeed, I have no doubt that our fancy took extravagant 
flights sometimes. In plain fact we were merely two 
young gentlemen in a seven-ton pleasure boat, with a taste 
for amateur hydrography and police duty combined. Not 
that Davies ever doubted. Once set on the road he gripped 
his purpose with childlike faith and tenacity. It was his 
'chance.' 



107 



CHAPTBB XI 

THB PATHFINDBBS 

In the late afternoon of the second day our flotilla reached 
the Elbe at Bronsbiittel and ranged up in the inner basdn, 
while a big liner, whimpering like a fretful baby, was 
tenderly nursed into the lock. During the delay Davies 
left me in charge and bolted ofif with an oil-can and a milk 
jug. An official in uniform was passing along the quay 
from vessel to vessel countersigning papers. I went up to 
meet him with our receipt for dues, which he signed care- 
lessly. Then he paused and muttered * Dooltzhibella,' 
scratching his head, < that was the name. English 7 ' he 
asked. 

' Yes/ 

'Little hist-eutter^ that is so; there was an inquiry 
for you.' 

«Whomfrom?' 

* A friend of yours from a big barge-yacht.' 

' Oh, I know ; she went on to Hamburg, I suppose 9 

* No such, luck, Gaptain ; she was outward bound.' 
What did the man mean? He seemed to be vastly 

amused by something. 

'When was this — about three weeks ago?' I asked 
indifferently. 

< Three weeks ? It was the day before yesterday.* 

' What a pity to miss him by so little t ' 

He chuckled and winked. 

' Did he leave any message ? ' I asked. 



106 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

'It was a lady who inqaired,' whispered the fellow, 
sniggering. 

'Oh, really/ I said, beginning to feel highly absurd, 
but keenly onrions. * And she inquired about the " Dulci- 
bella"?' 

'HerrgottI she was difficult to satisfy! Stood over 
me while I searched the books. " A very little one," she 
kept sayingy and <' Are you sure all the names are here ? " 
I saw her into her kleine Boot, and she rowed away in the 
rain. No, she left no message. It was dirty weather for a 
young Fraulein to be out alone in. Achl she was safe 
enough though. To see her crossing the ebb in a chop of 
tide was a treat.' 

'And the yacht went on down the river? Where was 
she bound to ? ' 

' How do I know ? Bremen, Wilhelmshaven, Emden — 
somewhere in the North Sea ; too far for you.' 

' I don't know about that,' said I bravely. 

'Achl you will not follow in thatf Are not you 
bound to Haiiiburg ? ' 

' We can change our plans. It seems a pity to have 
missed them.' 

' Think twice, Captain, there are plenty of pretty girls 
in Hamburg. But you English will do anything. Well, 
viel Gliick ! ' 

He moved on, chuckling, to the next boat. Davies soon 
returned with his cans and an armful of dark rye loaves, 
just in time, for the liner being through, the flotilla was 
already beginning to jostle into the lock, and Bartels was 
growing impatient. 

'They'll last ten days,' he said, as we followed the 
throng, still clinging like a barnacle to the side of the 
' Johannes.' We spent the few minutes while the lock was 
emptied in a farewell talk to Bartels. Earl had hitched 
their main halyards on to the windlass and was grinding 
at it in an achamemeni of industry, his shock-head jerking 



THE PATHPINDEBS 109 

and his grubby face perspiring. Then the look-gates 
opened; and so, in a Babel of shouting, whining of blocks, 
and creaking of spars, our whole company was spilt out 
into the dingy bosom of the Elbe. The 'Johannes* 
gathered way under wind and tide and headed for mid- 
stream. A last shake of the hand, and Bartels reluctantly 
slipped the head-rope and we drifted apart. ' Gute Beise I ' 
— ' Qute Beise I ' It was no time for regretful gazing, for 
the flood-tide was sweeping us up and out, and it was not 
until we had set the foresail, edged into a shallow bight 
and let go our anchor, that we had leisure to think of him 
again ; but by that time his and the other craft were shades 
in the murky east. 

We swung close to a glacis of smooth blue mud which 
sloped up to a weed-grown dyke ; behind lay the same flat 
country, colourless, humid; and opposite us, two miles 
away, scarcely visible in the deepening twilight, ran the 
outline of a similar shore. Between rolled the turgid 
Elbe. 'The Styx flowing through Tartarus,' I thought 
to myself, recalling some of our Baltic anchorages. 

I told my news to Davies as soon as the anchor was 
down, instinctively leaving the sex of the inquirer to the 
last, as my informant had done. 

< The " Medusa " called yesterday ? ' he interrupted. 
* And outward bound ? That's a rum thing. Why didn't 
he inquire when he was going up ? ' 

* It was a lady,' and I dryly retailed the official's story, 
very busy with a deck-broom the while. < We're all square 
now, aren't we ? ' I ended. ' I'll go below and light the 
stove.' 

Davies had been engaged in fixing up the riding-light. 
When I last saw him he was still so engaged, but motion- 
less, the lantern under his left arm and his right hand 
grasping the fore-stay and the half-knotted lanyard; his 
eyes staring fixedly down the river, a strange look in his 
face, half exultant, half perplexed. When he joined me 



no THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

Mid spoke he seemed to be conoluding a diiSoult arga- 
meni. 

* Anyway, it proves,' he said, * that the ** Medusa " has 
gone back to Norderney. That's the main thing.' 

< Probably,' I agreed, < but let's sum up all we know. 
First, it's certain that nobody we've met as yet has any 
sospidon of us ' 

<I told yon he did it off his own bat,' threw in Davies. 

' Or, secondly, of him. If he's what you think it's not 
known here.' 

' I oan't help thai' 

'Thirdly, he inquires for you on his way back from 
Hamburg, three weeks after the event. It doesn't look as 
if he thought he had disposed of you — ^it doesn't look as 
if he had meant to dispose of you. He sends his daughter 
too : a curious proceeding under the circumstances. Per- 
haps it's all a mistake.' 

' It's not a mistake,' said Davies, half to himself. ' But 
did he send her ? He'd have sent one of his men. He 
can't be on board at all.' 

This was a new light. 

* What do you mean f ' I asked. 

' He must have left the yacht when he got to Hamburg; 
some other devil's work, I suppose. She's being sailed 
back now, and passing here ' 

' Oh, I see 1 It's a private supplementary inquiry.' 

* That's a long name to call it.' 

* Would the girl sail back alone with the crew ? ' 
'She's used to the sea — and perhaps she isn't alone. 

There was that stepmother But it doesn't make a 

faa'porth of difference to our plans ; we'll start on the ebb 
to-morrow morning.' 

We were busier than usual that night, reckoning stores, 
tidying lookers, and securing movables. * We must econo- 
mise,' said Davies, for all the world as though we were 
oast-aways on a raft. 'It's a wretched thing to have to 



THE PATHPINDEBS 111 

land somewhere to buy oil,' was a fayoorite observation 
of his. 

Before getting to sleep I was made to recognise a new 
factor in the conditions of navigation, now that the tideless 
Baltic was left behind as. A strong current was sluicing 
past our sides, and at the eleventh hour I was turned 
out, clad in pyjamas and oilskins (a horrible combina- 
tion) to assist in running out a kedge or spare anchor. 
'What's kedging off?' I asked, when we were tucked up 
again. 

'Oh, it's when you run aground; you have to— but 
you'll soon learn all about it.' I steeled my heart for the 
morrow. 

So behold us, then, at eight o'clock on October 5, stand- 
ing down the river towards the field of our first labours. It 
is fifteen miles to the mouth : drab dreary miles like the 
dullest reaches of the lower Thames ; but scenery was of no 
concern to us, and a south-westerly breeze blowing out of a 
grey sky kept us constantly on the verge of reefing. The 
tide as it gathered strength swept us down with a force 
attested by the speed with which buoys came in sight, 
nodded above us and passed, each boiling in its eddy of 
dirty foam. I scarcely noticed at first — ^so calm was the 
water, and so regular were the buoys, like milestones along 
a road — that the northern line of coast was rapidly reced- 
ing and that the ' river ' was coming to be but a belt of deep 
water skirting a vast estuary, three — seven — ten miles broad, 
till it merged in open sea* 

'Why, we're at sea,' I suddenly exclaimed, 'after an 
hour's sailing 1 ' 

' Just discovered that f ' said Davies, laughing. 

' You said it was fifteen miles,' I complained. 

' So it is, till we leave this coast at Cuxhaven ; but I 
suppose you may say we're at sea ; of course that's all sand 
over there to starboard. Look I some of it's showing 
already,' 



112 THE RIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

He pointed into the north. Looking more attentively 
I noticed that outside the line of buoys patches oi the sur- 
face heaved and worked ; in one or two places ^eaks and 
circles of white were forming; in the midst of one such 
circle a sleek mauve hump had risen, like the back of a 
sleeping whale. 

I saw that an old spell was enthralling Davies as his 
eye travelled away to the blank horizon. He scanned it all 
with a critical eagerness too, as one who looks for a new 
meaning in an old friend's face. Something of his zest 
was communicated to me, and stilled the shuddering thrill 
that had seized me. The protecting land was still a 
comforting neighbour ; but our severance with it came 
quickly. The tide whirled us down, and, our straining 
canvas aiding it, we were soon off Cuxhaven, which crouched 
so low behind its mighty dyke, that of some of its houses 
only the chimneys were visible. Then, a mile or so on, the 
shore sharpened to a point like a claw, where the innocent . 
dyke became a long low fort, with some great guns peeping v 
over; then of a sudden it ceased, retreating into the far 
south in a dim perspective of groins and dunes. 

We spun out into the open and leant heavily over to 
the now unobstructed wind. The yacht rose and sank to a 
little swell, but my first impression was one of wonder at 
the calmness of the sea, for the wind blew fresh and free 
from horizon to horizon. 

' Why, it*s all sand there now, and we're under the lee 
of it,' said Davies, with an enthusiastic sweep of his hand 
over the sea on our left or port hand. ' That's our hunting 
ground.' 

' What are we going to do ? ' I inquired. 

' Pick up Sticker's Oat,' was the reply. ' It ought to 
be near Buoy E.' 

A red buoy with a huge E on it soon came into view. 
Davies peered over to port. 

* Just pull up the centre-board, will you ? ' he remarked 



•THE PATHFINDERS' 113 

abstEftotedly, adding, * and hand me up the glasses as you're 
down there.' 

' Never mind the glasses. I've got it now ; oome to the 
main-sheet/ was the next remark. 

He put down the hebn and headed the yaoht straight 
for the troubled and discoloured expanse which covered the 
submerged sands. A 'sleeping whale,' with a light surf 
splashing on it, was right in our path. 

' Stand by the lead, will you ? ' said Davies, politely. 
'I'll manage the sheets; it's a dead beat in. Beady 
about ! ' 

The wind was in our teeth now, and for a crowded half • 
hour we wormed ourselves forward by ever-shortening tacks 
into the sinuous recesses of a channel which threaded the 
shallows westward. I knelt in a tangle of line and, under 
the hazy impression that something very critical was going 
on, plied the lead furiously, bumping and splashing myself 
and shouting out the depths, which lessened steadily, with a 
great sense of the importance of my function. Davies 
never seemed to listen, but tacked on imperturbably, jug- 
gling with the tiller, the sheets, and the chart, in a way that 
made one giddy to look at. For all our zeal we seemed to 
be making very slow progress. 

'It's no use, tide's too strong ; we must chance it,' he 
said at last. 

' Ghance what ? ' I wondered to myself. 

Our tacks suddenly began to grow longer, and the depths, 
which I registered, sludlower. All went well for some time 
though, and we made better progress. Then came a longer 
reach than usual. 

' Two and a half — two— one and a half — one— only five 
feet,' I gasped repoachf ully. The water was growing thick 
and frothy. 

' It doesn't matter if we do,' said Davies, thinking aloud. 
' There's an eddy here, and it's a pity to waste it — ^ready 
about 1 Back the jib r 

I 



114 THE RIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

But it was too late. The yacht answered but faintly to 
the helm, stopped and heeled heayily over, wallowing and 
grinding. Davies had the mainsail down in a twinkling ; 
it half smothered me as I crouched on the lee-side among 
my tangled skeins of line, soared and helpless. I crawled 
out from the folds, and saw him standing by the mast in a 
reverie. 

* It's not much use,' he said, * on a falling tide, but we'll 
try kedging-off. Pay that warp out while I run out the 
kedge.' 

Like lightning he had cast off the dinghy's painter, 
tumbled the kedge-anchor and himself into the dinghy, 
pulled out fifty yards into the deeper water, and heaved out 
the anchor. 

' Now haul,' he shouted. 

I hauled, beginning to see what kedging-off meant. 

' Steady on 1 Don't sweat yourself/ said Davies, jump- 
ing aboard again. 

' It's coming,' I spluttered triumphantly. 

'The warp is, the yacht isn't; you're dragging the 
anchor home. Never mind, she'll lie well here. Let's 
have lunch.' 

The yacht was motionless, and the water round her 
visibly lower. Petulant waves slapped against her sides, 
but, scattered as my senses were, I realised that there 
was no vestige of danger. Bound us the whole face of the 
waters was changing from moment to moment, whitening 
in some places, yellowing in others, where breadths of sand 
began to be exposed. Close on our right the channel we 
had left began to look like a turbid little river; and I 
understood why our progress had been so slow when I saw 
its current racing back to meet the Elbe. Davies was 
already below, laying out a more than usually elaborate 
lunch, in high content of mind. 

Lies quiet, doesn't she ? ' he remarked. * If you do 
want a sit-down lunch, there's nothing like running aground 



THE PATHFINDEBS 115 

for it. And, anyhow, we're as handy for work here as any* 
where else. You'll see.' 

Like most landsmen I had a wholesome prejudice 
against 'running aground/ so that my mentor's turn for 
breezy paradox was at first rather exasperating. 

After lunch the large-scale chart of the estuaries was 
brought down, and we pored over it together, mapping out 
work for the next few days. There is no need to tire the 
general reader with its intricacies, nor is there space to 
reproduce it for the benefit of the instructed reader. For 
both classes the general map should be sufficient, taken 
with the large-scale fragment shown at page 69, which 
gives a fair example of the region in detail. It will be seen 
that the three broad fairways of the Jade, Weser, and Elbe, 
split up the sands into two main groups. The western- 
most of these is synmietrical in outline, an acute-angled 
triangle, very like a sharp steel-shod pike, if you imagine 
the peninsula from which it springs to be the wooden haft. 
The other is a huge congeries of banks, its base resting on 
the Hanover coast, two of its sides tolerably clean and even, 
and the third, that facing the north-west, ribboned and 
lacerated by the fury of the sea, which has eaten out deep 
cavities and struck hungry tentacles far into the interior. 
The whole resembles eai inverted E, or, better still, a rude 
fork, on whose three deadly prongs, the Scharhom Beef, 
the Enecht Sand, and the Tegeler Flat, as on the no less 
deadly point of the pike, many a good ship splinters 
herself in northerly gales. Following this simile, the 
Hohenh5m bank, where Davies was wrecked, is one of 
those that lie between the upper and middle prongs. 

Our business was to explore the Pike and the Fork, 
and the channels which ramify through them. I use the 
general word ' channel,' but in fact they differ widely in 
character, and are called in German by various names : 
Balje, Gat, Loch, Diep, Rinne. For my purpose I need 
only divide them into two sorts — those which have water in 

i2 



116 THE BroDLB OP THE SANDS 

them at all states of tide, and those which have not, which 
dry off, that is, either wholly or partly at low-tide, 

Davies explained that the latter would take most learn- 
ing, and were to be onr chief concern, because they were 
the 'through-routes' — the connecting links between the 
estuaries. You can always detect them on the chart by 
rows of little Y-shaped strokes denoting ' booms,' that ia 
to say, poles or saplings fixed in the sand to mark the 
passage. The strokes, of course, are only conventional 
signs, and do not correspond in the least to individual 
' booms,' which are far too numerous and complex to be 
indicated accurately on a chart, even of the largest scale. 
The same applies to the course of the channels themselveSi 
whose minor meanderings cannot be reproduced. 

It was on the edge of one of these tidal swatchways 
that the yacht was now lying. It is called Sticker's 6«t, 
and you cannot miss it (at page 69) if you carry your eye 
westward along our course from Guxhaven. It was, so 
Davies told me, the last and most intricate stage of the 
' short cut ' which the ' Medusa ' had taken on that memo- 
rable day — a stage he himself had never reached. 

Discussion ended, we went on deck, Davies arming 
himself with a notebook, binoculars, and the pjsmatio 
compass, whose use — to map the astgles of the channels — 
was at last apparent. This is what I saw when we 
emerged* 



s 



117 



CHAPTEB Xn 

MY INITUTIOM 

Thb yftcht lay with a very slight heel (thanks to a pair of 
small failge-keels on her bottom) in a sort of trough she 
had dug for herself, so that she was still ringed with a few 
inches of water, as it were with a moat. 

For miles in every direction lay a desert of sand. To 
the north it touched the horizon, and was only broken by 
the blue dot of Neuerk island and its lighthouse. To the 
east it seemed also to stretch to infinity, but the smoke of a 
steamer showed where it was pierced by the stream of the 
Elbe. To the south it ran up to the pencil-line of the 
Hanover shore. Only to the west was its outline broken 
by any vestiges of the sea it had risen from. There it was 
astir with crawling white filaments, knotted confusedly at 
one spot in the north-west, whence came a sibilant murmur 
Uke the biasing of many snakes. Desert as I call it, it was 
not entirely featureless. Its colour varied from light fawn, 
where the highest levels had dried in the wind, to brown or 
deep violet where it was still wet, and slate-grey where 
patches of mud soiled its clean bosom. Here and there 
were pools of water, smitten into ripples by the impotent 
wind; here and there it was speckled by shells and sea- 
weed. And close to us, beginning to bend away towards 
that hissing knot in the north-west, wound our poor little 
channel, mercilessly exposed as a stagnant muddy ditch 
with scarcely a foot of water, not deep enough to hide our 
small kedge anchor which perked up one fluke in impudent 



118 THE BIDDLE OF THE SAin)S 

mookery. The dnll hard sky, the wind moaning in the 
rigging as though crying in despair for a prey that had 
escaped it, made the scene inexpressibly forlorn. 

Davies scanned it with gusto for a moment, climbed to 
a point of vantage on the boom, and swept his glasses to 
and fro along the course of the channel. 

< Fairly well boomed,' he said meditatively, ' but one or 
two are very much out. By Jovel that's a tricky bend 
there.' He took a bearing with the compass, made a note 
or two, and sprang with a vigorous leap down on to the 
sand. 

This, I may say, was the only way of 'going ashore* 
that he really Uked. We raced off as fast as our clumsy 
sea-boots would let us, and followed up the course of our 
channel to the west, reconnoitring the road we should have 
to follow when the tide rose. 

' The only way to learn a place like this,' he shouted, 
' is to see it at low water. The banks are dry then, and the 
channels are plain. Look at that boom ' — he stopped and 
pointed contemptuously — ' it's all out of place. I suppose 
the channel's shifted there. It's just at an important bend 
too. If you took it as a guide when the water was up 
you'd run aground.' 

' Whidi would be very useful,' I observed. 

' Oh, hang it I ' he laughed, * we're exploring. I want to 
be able to run through this channel without a mistake. 
We will, next time.' He stopped, and plied compass 
and notebook. Then we raced on till the next halt was 
called. 

'Look,' he said, 'the channel's getting deeper, it was 
nearly dry a moment ago ; see the current in it now ? 
That's the flood tide coming up — from the westf mind you ; 
that is, from the Weser side. That shows we're past the 
watershed.' 

* Watershed ? ' I repeated blankly. 

* Yes, that's what I call it. You see, a big sand such as 



MY INITIATION 119 

this is like a range of hills dividing two plains, it's never 
dead fiat though it looks it ; there's always one point, one 
ridge, rather, where it's highest. Now a channel cutting 
right through the sand is of course always at its shallowest 
when it's crossing this ridge ; at low water it's generally 
dry there, and it gradually deepens as it gets nearer to the 
sea on either side. Now, at high tide, when the whole sand 
is covered, the water can travel where it likes ; but directly 
the ebb sets in the water falls away on either side the ridge 
and the channel becomes two rivers flowing in opposite 
directions from the centre, or watershed, as I call it. ' So, 
also, when the ebb has run out and the flood begins, the 
channel is fed by two currents flowing to the centre and 
meeting in the middle. Here the Elbe and the Weser are 
our two feeders. Now this current here is going eastwajrd ; 
we know by the time of day that the tide's rising, therefcre 
the watershed is between us and the yacht.' 

* Why is it so important to know that ? ' 

'Because these currents are strong, and you want to 
know when you'll lose a fair one and strike a foul one. 
Besides, the ridge is the critical point when you're crossing 
on a falling tide, and you want to know when you're past it.' 

We pushed on till our path was barred by a big lagoon. 
It looked far more imposing than the channel ; b.ut Davies, 
after a rapid scrutiny, treated it to a grunt of contempt. 

' It's 9^ culde sac,* he said. * See that hump of sand 
it's making for, beyond ? ' 

'It's boomed,' I remonstrated, pointing at a decrepit 
stem drooping over the bank, and shaking a palsied finger 
at the imposture. 

' Yes, that's just where one goes wrong, it's an old cut 
that's silted up. That boom's a fraud ; there's no time to 
go further, the fiood's making fast. I'll just take bearings 
of what we can see.' 

The false lagoon was the first of several that began to 
be visible in the west, swelling and joining hands over the 



120 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

ribs of sand that divided them. All the time the distant 
hissing grew nearer and loader, and a deep thonderons note 
began to sound beneath ii We turned our baoks to the 
wind and hastened baok towards the * Duloibella,' the stream 
in our channel hurrying and rising alongside of us. 

* There's just time to do the other side,' said Dayies, 
when we reached her and I was congratulating myself on 
having regained our base without finding our communica- 
tions cut. And away we scurried in the direction we had 
come that morning, splashing through pools and jumping 
the infant runnels that were stealing out through rifts from 
the mother-channel as the tide rose. Our observations 
completed, back we travelled, making a wide circuit over 
higher ground to avoid the encroaching flood, and wading 
shin-deep in the final approach to the yacht. 

As I scrambled thankfully aboard, I seemed to hear a 
far-off voice saying, in languid depreciation of yachting, that 
it did not give one enough exercise. It was mine, centuries 
ago, in another life. 

From east and west two sheets of water had overspread 
the desert, each pushing out tongues of surf that met and 
fused. 

I waited on deck and watched the death-throes of the 
suffocating sands under the relentless onset of the sea. 
The last strongholds were battered, stormed and over- 
whelmed; the tumult of sounds sank and steadied and 
the sea swept victoriously over the whole expanse. The 
* Duldbella,' hitherto contemptuously inert, began to wake 
and tremble under the buffetings she received. Then, with 
an effort, she jerked herself on to an even keel and bumped 
and strained fretfully, impatient to vanquish this insolent 
invader and make him a slave for her own ends. Soon her 
warp tightened and her nose swung slowly round ; only hei 
stem bumped now, and that with decreasing force. Sud- 
denly she was free and drifting broadside to the wind till 
the anchor checked her and she brought up to leeward of it. 



MY INITIATION 121 

rooMng easily and triumphantly. Good-humoured little 
person 1 At heart she was friends alike with sand and sea. 
It was only when the old love and the new love were in 
mortal oombat for her favouili, and she was mauled in the 
fracasy that her temper rose in revolt. 

We swallowed a hasty oup of tea, ran up the sails, and 
started off west again. Once across the ' watershed ' we 
met a strong current, but the trend of the passage was 
now more to the north-west, so that we could hold our 
course without tacking, and consequently could stem the 
tide. ' Oive her just a foot of the centre-plate,' said Davies. 
'We know the way here and she'll make less leeway; 
but we shall generally have to do without it — ^always on a 
falling tide. If you run aground with the plate down you 
deserve to be drowned.' I now saw how valuable our walk 
had been. The booms were on our right ; but they were 
broken reeds, giving no hint as to the breadth of the 
channeL A few bad lost their tops and were being 
engulfed altogether by the rising water. When we came 
to the point where they ceased and the false lagoon had 
lain, I should have felt utterly lost. We had crossed the 
high and relatively level sands which form the base of the 
Fork, and were entering the labyrinth of detached banks 
which obstruct the funnel-shaped cavity between the upper 
and middle prongs. This I knew from the chart. My 
unaided eye saw nothing but the open sea, growing dark 
green as the depths increased ; a dour, threatening sea, 
showing its white fangs. The waves grew longer and 
steeper, for the channels, though still tortuous, now begin to 
be broad and deep. 

Davies had his bearings, and struck on his course con- 
fidently. ' Now for the lead,' he said ; ' the compass'U 
be little use soon. We must feel the edge of the sands 
till we pick up more booms.' 

'Where are we going to anchor for the night f I 
asked. 



122 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

'Under the Hohenhom,' said Davies, 'for aold lang 
qmel' 

Partly by sight and mostly by touch we orept round the 
outermost alley of the hidden maze till a new dump of 
booms appeared, meaningless to me, but analysed by him 
into two groups. One we followed for some distance, and 
then struck finally away and began another beat to 
windward. 

Dusk was falling. The Hanover coast-line, never very 
distinct, had utterly vanished ; an ominous heave of swell 
was underrunning the short sea. I ceased to attend to 
Davies imparting instruction on his beloved hobby, and 
sought to stifle in hard manual labour the dread that had 
been latent in me all day at the prospect of our first 
anchorage at sea. 

' Sound, like blazes now 1 ' he said at last. I came to a 
fathom and a half. ' That's the bank,' he said, ' we'll give it 
a bit of a berth and then let go.' 

' Let go now ! ' was the order, after a minute, and the 
chain ran out with a long-drawn moan. The * Duldbella ' 
snubbed up to it and jauntily faced the North Sea and the 
growing night. 

' There we are ! ' said Davies, as we finished stowing the 
mainsail, * safe and snug in four fathoms in a magnificent 
sand-harbour, with no one to bother us and the whole of it 
to ourselves. No dues, no stinks, no traffic, no worries of 
any sort. It's better than a Baltic cove even, less beastly 
civilisation about We're seven miles from the nearest 
coast, and five even from Neuerk — look, they're lighting 
up.' There was a tiny spark in the east. 

'I suppose it's all right,' I said, 'but I'd rather see 
a solid breakwater somewhere ; it's a dirty-looking night, 
and I don't like this swell.' 

' The swell's nothing,' said Davies ; ' it's only a stray 
drain from outside. As for breakwaters, you've got them 
all round you, only they're hidden. Ahead and to starboard 



MY INITIATION 128 

is the West Hohenhom, curling round to the sou'-west for 
all the world like a stone pier. You can hear the surf 
battering on its outside over to the north. That's where I 
was nearly wrecked that day, and the little channel I 
stumbled into must be quite near us somewhere. Half a 
mile away — to port there — is the East Hohenhom, where 
I brought up, after dashing across this lake we're in. 
Another mile astern is the main body of the sands, the top 
prong of your fork. So you see we're shut in — practically. 
Surely you remember the chart ? Why it's ' 

* Oh, confound the chart I ' I broke out, finding this flow 
of plausible comfort too dismally suggestive for my nerves. 
' Look at it, man 1 Supposing anything happens — ^sup- 
posing it blows a gale I But it's no good shivering here 
and staring at the view. I'm going below.' 

There was a numvads qtcart d'heure below, during 
which, I am ashamed to say that I forgot the quest. 

'Which soup do you feel inclined for?' said Davies 
timidly, after a black silence of some minutes. 

That simple remark, more eloquent of security than a 
thousand technical arguments, saved the situation. 

'I say, Davies,' I said, 'I'm a white-livered cur at the 
best, and you mustn't spare me. But you're not like any 
yachtsman I ever met before, or any sailor of any sort. 
You're so casual and quiet in the extraordinary things you 
do. I believe I should like you better if you let fly a volley 
of deepsea oaths sometimes, or threatened to put me in irons.' 

Davies opened wide eyes, and said it was all his fault 
for forgetting that I was not as used to such anchorages as 
he was. * And, by the way,' he added, 'as to its blowing a 
gale, I shouldn't wonder if it did : the glass is falling hard ; 
but it can't hurt us. You see, even at high water the drift 
of the sea * 

' Oh, for heaven's sake, don't begin again. You'll prove 
soon that we're safe? here than in an hotel. Let's have 
dinner, and a thundering good one t ' 



1S4 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

Dixmdr ran a smooth oonrsey bat jufit as coffee yraa bemg 
bfewed the hoU, from pitching regularly, began to rolL 

'I knew she would,' said Davies. 'I was going to warn 
you, only— the ebb has set in against the wind. It's quite 
safe ' 

'I thought you said it would get calmer when the tide 
fell?' 

' Bo it will, but it may seem rougher. Tides are queer 
things,' he added, as though in defence of some not very 
respectable acquaintances. 

He busied himself with his logbook, swaying easily to 
the motion of the boat ; and I for my piurt tried to write up 
my diary, but I could not fix my attention. Every loose 
article in the boat became audibly restless. Gans clinked, 
cupboards rattled, lookers uttered hollow groans. Small 
things sidled out of dark hiding-places, and danced grotesque 
drunken figures on the floor, like gobhns in a haunted glade. 
The mast whined dolorously at every heel, and the centre- 
board hiccoughed and choked. Overhead another horde of 
demons seemed to have been let loose. The deck and^ mast 
were conductors which magnified every sound and made the 
tap-tap of every rope's end resemble the blows of a hammer, 
and the slapping of the halyards against the mast the rattle 
of a Maxim gun. The whole tumult beat time to a 
rhythmical chorus which became maddening. 

'We might turn in now,' said Davies; 'it's half -past 
ten.' 

' What, sleep through this 1 ' I exclaimed. ' I can't 
stand this, I must do something. Can't we go for ai^other 
walk?' 

I spoke in bitter, half-deUrious jest. 

'Of course we can,' said Davies, 'if you don't mind a 
bit of a tumble in the dinghy.' 

I reconsidered my rash suggestion, but it was too late 
now to turn back, and some desperate expedient was neces- 
sary. I found myself on deck, gripping a backstay and 



MY INITIATION 125 

looking giddily down and then up at the dinghy, as it bobbed 
like a cork in the trough of the sea alongside, while Davies 
settled the sculls and rowlocks. 

' Jump/ he shouted, and before I could gather my wits 
and clutch the sides we were adrift in the night, reeling 
from hollow to hollow of the steep curling waves. Davies 
nursed our walnut-shell tenderly over their crests, edging 
her slantwise across their course. He used very little 
exertion, relying on the tide to carry us to our goal. Sud- 
denly the motion ceased. A dark slope loomed up out of 
the night, and the dinghy rested softly in a shallow eddy. 

' The West Hohenhom,' said Davies. We jumped out 
and sank into soft mud, hauled up the dinghy a foot or two, 
then mounted the bank and were on hard wet sand. The 
wind leapt on us and choked our voices. 

'Let's find my channel,' bawled Davies. 'This way. 
Keep Neuerk light right astern of you.' 

We set off with a long stooping stride in the teeth of 
the wind, and straight towards the roar of the breakers on 
the farther side of the sand. A line of Matthew Arnold's : 

* The naked shingles of the world,' was running in my head. 

* Seven miles from land,' I thought, ' scuttling like sea-birds 
on a transient islet of sand, encircled by rushing tides and 
hammered by ocean, at midnight in a rising gale— cut 
off even from our one dubious refuge.' It was the time, if 
ever, to conquer weakness. A mad gaiety surged through 
me as I drank the wind and pressed forward. It seemed 
but a minute or two and Davies clutched me. 

' Look out I ' he shouted. ' It's my channel.' 
The ground sloped down, and a rushing river glimmered 
before us. We struck off at a tangent and followed its 
course to the north, stumbling in muddy rifts, slipping on 
seaweed, beginning to be blinded by a fine salt spray and 
deafened by the thunder of the ocean surf. The river 
broadened, whitened, roughened, gathered itself for the 
shock, was shattered and dissolved in milky gloom. We 



126 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

wheeled away to the right, and splashed into yeasty froth. 
I turned my baok to the wind, scooped the brine out of 
eyes, faced back and saw that oar path was barred by a 
welter of surf. Davies's voice was in my ear and his arm 
was pointing seaward. 

* This — is — ^about where — I — bumped first — worse then 
— nor'-west wind — this — is — ^nothing. Let's — go — bright 
— around.' 

We galloped away with the wind behind as, skirting 
the line of surf. I lost all account of time and direction. 
Another sea barred our road, became another river as we 
slanted along its shore. Again we were iu the teeth of that 
intoxicating wind. Then a point of light was swaying and 
flickering away to the left, and now we were checking and 
circling. I stumbled against something sharp — the dinghy's 
gunwale. So we had completed the circuit of our fugitive 
domain, that dream-island — ^nightmare island as I always 
remember it. 

'You must scull too/ said Davies. * It's blowing hard 
now. Keep her nose v/p a little — ^all you know ! ' 

We lurched along, my scull sometimes buried to the 
thwart, sometimes striking at the bubbles of a wave top. 
Davies, in the bows, said ' Pull ! ' or ' Steady 1 ' at intervals. 
I heard the scud smacking against his oilsldn back. Then 
a wan, yellow light glanced over the waves. ' Easy ! Let 
her come I ' and the bowsprit of the ' Dulcibella,' swollen 
to spectral proportions, was stabbing the darkness above me. 
* Back a bit I Two good strokes. Ship your scull I Now 
jump I ' I clawed at the tossing hull and landed in a 
heap. Davies followed with the painter, and the 4inghy 
swept astern. 

' She's riding beautifully now,' said he, when he had 
secured the painter. ' There'll be no rolling on the flood, 
and it's nearly low water.' 

I don't think I should have cared, however much she 
had rolled. I was finally cured of funk. 



MY INITIATION 127 

It was well that I was, for to be pitched ont of your 
bunk on to wet oil-cloth is a disheartening beginning to 
a day. This happened about eight o'clock. The yacht 
was pitching violently, and I crawled on all fours into the 
cabin, where Davies was setting out breakfast on the floor. 

'I let you sleep on,' he said; 'we can't do anything 
till the water falls. We should never get the anchor up in 
this sea. Oome and have a look round. It's clearing 
now,' he went on, when we were crouching low on deck, 
gripping cleats for safety. 'Wind's veered to nor'-west. 
It's been blowing a full gale, and the sea is at its worst 
now — ^near high water. You'll never see it worse than 
this.' 

I was prepared for what I saw— the stormy sea for 
leagues around, and a chaos of breakers where our dream- 
island had stood — ^and took it quietly, even with a sort of 
elation. The ' Dulcibella ' faced the storm as doggedly as 
ever, plunging her bowsprit into the sea and flinging green 
water over her bows. A wave of confidence and affection 
for her welled through me. I had been used to resent the 
weight and bulk of her unwieldy anchor and cable, but I 
saw their use now; varnish, paint, spotless decks, and 
snowy sails were foppish absurdities of a hateful past. 

' What can we do to-day ? ' I asked. 

< We must keep well inside the banks and be precious 
careful wherever there's a swell. It's rampant in here, 
you see, in spite of the barrier of sand. But there's plenty 
we can do further back.' 

We breakfasted in horrible discomfort; then smoked 
and talked till the roar of the breakers dwindled. At the 
first sign of bare sand we got under way, under mizzen and 
the headsails only, and I learned how to sail a reluctant 
anchor out of the ground. Pivoting round, we scudded 
east before the wind, over the ground we had traversed the 
evening before, while an archipelago of new banks slowly 
shouldered up above the fast weakening waves. We trod 



^ 



y 



128 THE EroDLB OF THE SANDS 

delicately among and around them, sounding and observing; 
heaving to where space permitted, and sometimes using 
the dinghy. I began to see where the risks lay in this 
sort of navigation. Wherever the ocean swell penetrated 
or the vdnd blew straight dovm a long deep channel, we 
had to be very cautious and leave good margins. ' That's 
the sort of place you mustn't ground on,' Davies used 
to say. 

In the end we traversed the Steil Sand again, but by a 
diiferent swatchway, and anchored, after an arduous day, in 
a notch on its eastern limit, just clear of the swell that 
rolled in from the turbulent estuary of the Elbe. The 
night was fair, and when the tide receded we lay perfectly 
still, the fresh wind only sending a lip-lip of ripples against 
our sides. 



139 



OHAPTEE XrA 

•FHB MBANIKO OF OUB WOBE 

NoTHiNa happened during the next ten days to disturb us 
at our work. During every hour of daylight and many of 
darkness, sailing or anchored, aground or afloat, in rain 
and shine, wind and calm, we studied the bed of the estu- 
aries, and practised ourselyes in threading their network of 
channels ; holding no communication with the land and 
rarely approaching it. It was a life of toil, exposure, and 
peril: a struggle against odds, too; for wild autumnal 
weather was the rule, with the wind backing and veering 
between the south-west and north-west, and only for two 
pladd days blowing gently from the east, the safe quarter 
for this region. Its force and direction determined each 
fresh choice of ground. If it was high and northerly we 
explored the inner fastnesses ; in moderate intervals the 
exterior fringe, darting when surprised into whatever lair 
was most convenient. 

Sometimes we were tramping vast solitudes of sand, 
sometimes scudding across ephemeral tracts of shallow sea. 
Again, we were creeping gingerly round the deeper arteries 
that surround the Great Enecht, examining their convolu- 
tions as it were the veins of a living tissue, and the 
drculaidon of the tide throbbing through them like blood. 
Again, we would be staggering through the tide-rips and 
overfalls that infest the open fairway of the Weser on our 
passage between the Fork and the Pike. On one of our 
fine days I saw Itie scene of Davies's original adventure by 

X 



180 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

daylight with the banks dry and the channels manifest 
The reader has seen it on the chart and can up to a point 
form his opinion ; I can only add that I realised by ocular 
proof that no more fatal trap could have been devised for an 
innocent stranger ; for approaching it from the north-west 
under the easiest conditions it was hard enough to verify 
our true course. In a period so full of new excitements it 
is not easy for me to say when we were hardest put to it, 
especially as it was a rule with Davies never to admit that 
we were in any danger at all. But I think that our ugliest 
experience was on the 10th, when, owing to some minute 
miscalculation, we stranded in a dangerous spot. Mere 
stranding, of course, was all in the day's work ; the con- 
stantly recurring question being when and where to court 
or risk it. This time we were so situated that when the 
rising tide came again we were on a lee shore, broadside on 
to a gale of wind which was sending a nasty sea — with a 
three-mile drift to give it force — down Robin's Balje, which 
is one of the deeper arteries I spoke of above, and now lay 
dead to windward of us. The climax came about ten 
o'clock at night. * We can do nothing till she floats,' said 
Davies ; and I can see him now quietly smoking and splicing 
a chafed warp while he explained tibat her double skin of 
teak fitted her to stand anything in reason. She certainly 
had a terrific test that night, for the bottom was bard un- 
yielding sand, on which she rose and fell with convulsive 
vehemence. The last half -hour was for me one of almost 
intolerable tension. I spent it on deck unable to bear the 
suspense below. Sheets of driven sea flew bodily over the 
hull, and a score of times I thought she must succumb as 
she shivered to the blows of her keel on the sand. But 
those stout skins knit by honest labour stood the triaL 
One final thud and she wrenched herself bodily free, found 
her anchor and rode clear. 

On the whole I think we made few mistakes. Davies 
bad a supreme aptitude for the work. Every hour, some- 



THE MEANING OP OUR WOEK 181 

times every minutey brought its problem, and bis resource 
never failed. The stiffer it was the cooler he became. He 
had, too, that intuition which is independent of acquired 
skill, and is at the root of all genius ; which, to take cases 
analogous to his own, is the last quality of the perfect guide 
or scout. I believe he could smell sand where he could 
not see or touch it. \ 

As for me, the sea has never been my element, and 
never will be ; nevertheless, I hardened to the life, grew salt 
tough and tolerably alert. As a soldier learns more in a 
week of war than in years of parades and pipeclay, so, cut 
off from all distractions, moving from bivouac to precarious 
bivouac, and depending, to some extent, for my life on 
my muscles and wits, I rapidly learnt my work and gained 
a certain dexterity. I knew my ropes in the dark, could 
beat economically to windward through squalls, take bear- 
ings, and estimate the interaction of wind and tide. 

We were generally in solitude, but occasionally we met 
galliots like the * Johannes ' tacking through the sands, and 
once or twice we found a fleet of such boats anchored in a 
gut, waiting for water. Their draught, loaded, was from 
six to seven feet, our own only four, without our centre- 
plate, but we took their mean draught as the standard of 
aU our observations. That is, we set ourselves to ascertain 
when and how a vessel drawing six and a half feet could 
navigate the sands. 

A word more as to our motive. It was Davies's con- 
viction, as I have said, that the whole region would in war 
be an ideal hunting-ground for small free-lance marauders, 
and I began to know he was right ; for look at the three 
sea-roads through the sands to Hamburg, Bremen, Wil- 
helmshaven, and the heart of commercial Germany. They 
are like highways piercing a mountainous district by 
defiles, where a handful of desperate men can arrest an 
army. 

Follow the parallel of a war on land. People your 

k2 



182 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

mottntains with » daring and resouxoef ul laoe, who poisesa 
an intimate knowledge of every traok and bridle-path, who 
operate in small bands, travel light and move rapidly. 
See what an immense advantage suoh ^aeriUaa possess 
over an enemy which clings to beaten tracks, moves in 
large bodies, slowly, and does not 'know the country.' 
See how they can not only inflict disasters on a foe who 
vastly overmatches them in strength, bat can prolong 
a semi-passive resistance long after all the decisive battles 
have been fought. See, too, how the strong invader can only 
conquer his elusive antagonists by learning their methods, 
studying their country, and matching them in mobility and 
cunning. The parallel must not be pressed too far ; but 
that this sort of warfare will have its counterpart on the sea 
^ is a truth which cannot be questioned. 

Davies in his enthusiasm set no Hmits to its importance. 
The small boat in shallow waters played a mighty rdle in 
his vision of a naval war, a part that would grow in import- 
ance as the war developed and reach its height in the fioal 
stages. 

^ The heavy battle-fleets are all very well,' he used to 
say, 'but if the sides are well matched there might be 
nothing left of them after a few months of war. They might 
destroy one another mutually, leaving as nominal conqueror \ 
an admiral with scarcely a battle-ship to bless himself ^ 
with. It's then that the true struggle will set in ; and it's 
then that anything that will float will be pressed into 
the service, and anybody who can steer a boat, knows his 
waters, and doesn't care the toss of a coin for his life, will 
have magnificent opportunities. It cuts both ways. What 
small boats can do in these waters is plain enough ; but 
take our own case. Say we're beaten on the high seas by 
a coalition. There's then a risk of starvation or invasion. 
It's all rot what they talk about instant surrender. We can 
live on half -rations, recuperate, and build; but we must 
have time. Meanwhile our coast and ports are in danger, 



HHE MEANING OF OUE WOBK 18* 

for the millions we sink in forts and mines won't oarry us 
far. They're fixed — pure passive defence. What yon want 
iB^foats — ^mosquitoes with stings — swarms of them — patrol- 
boats, scout-boats, torpedo-boats ; intelligent irregulars 
manned by local men, with a pretty free hand to play their 
own game. And what a splendid game to play ! There 
are places very like this over there — ^nothing half so good, 
but similar — the Mersey estuary, the Dee, the Severn, the 
Wash, and, best of all, the Thames, with all the Sent, Essex, 
and Su£E61k banks round it. But as for defending our coasts 
in the way I mean — ^we've nothing ready — nothing whatso- 
ever! We don't even build or use small torpedo-boats.. 
These fast " destroyers " are no good for this work — too long* 
and unmanageable, and most of them too deep. What you 
want is something strong and simple, of light draught, 
and with only a spar-torpedo, if it came to that. Tugs, 
launches, small yachts — ^anything would do at a pinch, for 
success would depend on intelligence, not on brute force or 
complicated mechanism. They'd get wiped out often, but 
what matter ? There'd be no lack of the right sort of men for 
them if the thing was organised. But where are the men ? 

* Or, suppose we have the best of it on the high seas, and 
have to attack or blockade a coast like this, which is sand 
from end to end. Tou can't improvise people who are at 
home in such waters. The navy chaps don't learn it, 
though, by Jove I they're the most magnificent service in the 
world — ^in pluck, and nerve, and everything else. They'll 
try anything, and often do the impossible. But their boats 
^ are deep, and they get little practice in this sort of thing.' 

Davies never pushed home his argument here ; but I 
know it was the passionate wish of his heart, somehow and 
somewhere, to get a chance of turning his knowledge of 
this coast to practical account in the war that he felt was 
bound to come, to play that splendid game ' in this, the 
most fascinating fidld for it. 

I can do no more than sketch his views. Hearing them 



184 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

as I did with the very splash of the surf and the bubble of 
the tides in my ears, they made a profound impression on 
me, and gave me the very zeal for our work he^ by tempera* 
ment, possessed. 

But as the days passed and nothing occurred to disturb 
us, I felt more and more strongly that, as regards our 
quest, we were on the wrong tack. We found nothing 
suspicious, nothing that suggested a really adequate motive 
for Dollmann's treachery. I became impatient, and was 
for pushing on more quickly westward. Davies still clung 
to his theory, but the same feeling influenced him. 

* It's something to do with these channels in the sand,* 
he persisted, ' but I'm afraid, as you say, we haven't got at 
the heart of the mystery. Nobody seems to care a rap 
what we do. We haven't done the estuaries as well as I 
should like, but we'd better push on to the islands. It's 
exactly the same sort of work, and just as important, I 
believe. We're bound to get a clue soon.' 

There was also the question of time, for me, at least. 
I was due to be back in London, unless I obtained an 
extension, on the 28th, and our present rate of progress 
was slow. But I cannot conscientiously say that I made 
a serious point of this. If there was any value in our 
enterprise at all, official duty paled beside it. The machinery 
of State would not suffer from my absence ; excuses would 
have to be made, and the results braved. 

All the time our sturdy little craft grew shabbier and 
more weather-worn, the varnish thinner, the decks greyer, 
the sails dingier, and the cabin roof more murky where 
stove-fumes stained it. But the only beauty she ever 
possessed, that of perfect fitness for her functions, remained. 
With nothing to compare her to she became a home to me. 
My joints adapted themselves to her crabbed limits, my 
tastes and habits to her plain domestic economy. 

But oil and water were rimning low, and the time had 
oome for us to be forced to land and renew our stock. 



186 



OHAPTEB XIV 

THE FIB8T NIQHT IK THB ISLANDS 

A LOW line of sandhills, pink and fawn in the setting son, 
at one end of them a little white village huddled round the 
base of a massive four-square lighthouse — such was Wan- 
^ecQQgi the easternmost of the Frisian Islands, as I saw it 
on the evening of October 15. We had decided to make 
it our first landing-place ; and since it possesses no harbour 
and is hedged by a mile of sand at low water, we had run 
in on the rising tide till the yiacht groimded, in order to 
save ourselves as much labour as possible in the carriage 
to and fro of the heavy water-breakers and oil-cans which 
we had to replenish. In faint outline three miles to the 
south of us was the flat plain of Friesland broken only by 
some trees, a windmill or two, and a church spire. Between, 
the shallow expanse of sea was already beginning to shrink 
away into lagoons, chief among which was the narrow 
passage by which we had approached from the east. This 
continued its course west, directly parallel to the island, 
and in it, at a distance of half a mile from us, three galliots 
lay at anchor. 

Before supper was over the yacht was high and dry, and 
whon we had eaten, Davies loaded himself with cans and 
breakers. I was for taking my share, but he induced me to 
stay aboard ; for I was dead tired after an unusually long 
and trying day, which had begun at 2 a.m., when, using a 
precious instalment of east wind, we had started on a 
complete passage of the sands from the Elbe to the Jade. 



186 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

It ivas a barely possible feat for a boat of our low speed to 
perform in only two tides ; and though we just succeeded, 
it was only by dint of tireless vigilance and severe physical 
strain. 

' Lay out the anchor when you've had a smoke,' said 
Davies, 'and keep an eye on the riding-light ; it's my only 
guide back.' 

He lowered himself, and I heard the scrunch of his 
sea-boots as he disappeared in the darkness. It was a fine 
starry night, with a touch of frost in the air. I lit a cigar, 
and stretched myself on a sofa close to the glow of the 
stove. The cigar soon languis}ied and dropped, and I 
dozed uneasily, for the riding-light was on my mind. I 
got up once and squinted at it through the half-raised 
skylight, saw it burning steadily, and lay down again. The 
cabin lamp wanted oil and was dying down to a red-hot 
wick, but I was too drowsy to attend to it, and it went out. 
I lit my cigar stump again, and tried to keep awake by 
thinking. It was the first time I and Davies had been 
separated for so long; yet, so used had we grown to 
freedom from interference that this would not have dis- 
turbed me in the least were it not for a sudden presentiment 
that on this first night of the second stage of our labours 
something would happen. All at once I heard a sound 
outside, a splashing footstep as of a man stepping in 
a puddle. I was wide awake in an instant, but never 
thought of shouting ' Is that you, Davies ? ' f or I knew in a 
flash that it was not he. It was the slip of a stealthy man. 
Presently I heard another footstep — the pad of a boot on 
sand — this time close to my ear, just outside the hull; 
then some more, fainter and further aft. I gently rose and 
peered aft through the skylight. A glimmer of light, 
reflected from below, was wavering over the mizzen-mast 
and bumpkin ; it had nothing to do with the riding-light, 
which hung on the forestay. My prowler, I understood, 
had struck a match and was reading the name on the stern. 



THE PIEST NIGHT IN THE ISLANDS 187 

Bow much further would his curiosity carry him? Ths 
match went out and footsteps were audible again. Then 
a strong guttural voice called in German * Yacht ahoy ! ' 
I kept silence. ' Yacht ahoy ! ' a little louder this time. 
A pause, and then a vibration of the hull as boots 
scraped on it and hands grasped the gunwale. My visitor 
was on deck. I bobbed down, sat on the sofa, and I heard 
him moving along the deck, quickly and confidently, 
first forward to the bows, where he stopped, then back to 
the companion amidships. Inside the cabin it was pitch 
dark, but I heard his boots on the ladder, feeling for the 
steps. In another moment he would be in the doorway 
lighting his second match. Surely it was darker than 
before ? There had been a little glow from the riding-lamp 
reflected on to the skylight, but it had disappeared. I 
looked up, realised, and madid a fool of myself. In a few 
seconds more I should have seen my visitor face to face, 
perhaps had an interview ; but I was new to this sort of 
work and lost my head. All I thought of ^as Davies's last 
words, and saw him astray on the sands, with no light to 
guide him back, the tide rising, and a heavy load. I started 
up involuntarily, bumped against the table, and set the 
stove jingling. A long step and a grab at the ladder, but 
just too late t I grasped something damp and greasy, 
there was tugging and hard breathing, and I was left 
clasping a big sea boot, whose owner I heard jump on to 
the sand and run. I scrambled out, vaulted overboard, and 
followed blindly by the sound. He bad doubled round the 
bows of the yacht, and I did the same, ducked under the 
bowsprit, forgetting the bobstay, and fell violently on my 
head, with all the wind knocked out of me by a wire rope 
and block whose strength and bulk was one of the glories 
of the 'Dulcibella.' I struggled on as soon as I got some 
breath, but my invisible quarry was far ahead. I pulled off 
my heavy boots, carried them, and ran in my stockings, 
promptly cutting my foot on some cockleshells. Pursuit 



188 THE ETODLB OP THE SANDS 

was hopeless, and a final stumble ovar a bit of driftwood 
sent me sprawling, with agony in my toes. 

Limping back, I decided that I had made a very poor 
beginning as an active adventurer. I had gained nothing 
and lost a great deal of breath and skin, and did not even 
know for certain where I was. The yacht's light was extin- 
guished, and, even with Wangeroog lighthouse to guide me, 
I found it no easy matter to find her. She had no anchor 
out, if the tide rose. And how was Davies to find her? 
After much feeble circling I took to lying flat at intervals 
in the hopes of seeing her silhouetted against the starry sky. 
This plan succeeded at last, and with relief and humility I 
boarded her, re-lit the riding light, and carried out the kedge 
anchor. The strange boot lay at the foot of the ladder, but 
it told no tales when I examined it. It was eleven o'clock, 
past low water. Davies was cutting it fine if he was to g3t 
aboard without the dinghy's help. But eventually he re- 
appeared in the most prosaic way, exhausted with his heavy 
load, but full of talk about his visit ashore. He began 
while we were still on deck. 

'Look here, we ought to have settled more about what 
we're to say when we're asked questions. I chose a quiet- 
looking shop, but it turned out to be a sort of inn, where they 
were drinking pink gin — all very friendly, as usual, and I 
found myself under a fire of questions. I said we were on 
our way back to England. There was the usual rot about 
the smallness of the boat, etc. It struck me that we should 
want some other pretence for going so slow and stopping to 
explore, so I had to bring in the ducks, though goodness 
knows we don't want to waste time over them. The subject 
wasn't quite a success. They said it was too early — ^jealous, 
I suppose ; but then two fellows spoke up and asked to be 
taken on to help. Said they would bring their punt ; with- 
out local help we should do no good. All true enough, no 
doubt, but what a nuisance they'd be. I got out of it 

'It's just as well you did,' I interposed. 'We shall 



THE FIRST NIGHT IN THE ISLANDS 189 

never be able to leave the boat by herself. I believe we're 
watohed/ and I related my experience. 

< H'm ! It's a pity you didn't see who it was. Oonf ound 
that bobstay I ' — (his taotf ul way of reflecting on my clumsi- 
ness) — * which way did he run ? ' I pointed vaguely into 
the west. ' Not towards the island ? I wonder if it's some 
one off one of those galliots. There are three anchored in 
the channel over there; you can see their lights. Tou 
didn't hear a boat puUing off? ' 

I explained that I had been a miserable failure as a 
detective. 

* You've done Jolly well, I think,* said Davies. * If you 
had shouted when you first heard him we should know less 
still. And we've got a boot, which may come in useful. 
Anchor out all right ? Let's get below.' 

We smoked and talked till the new flood, lapping softly 
round the ' Dulcibella,' raised her without a jar. 

Of course, I argued, there might be nothing in it. The 
visitor might have been a commonplace thief ; an appa- 
rently deserted yacht was a tempting bait. Davies scouted 
this possibility from the first. 

'They're not like that in Germany,' he said. 'In 
Holland, if you like, they'll do anything. And I don't like 
that turning out of the lantern to gain time, if we were away.' 

Nor did I. In spite of my blundering in details, I 
welcomed the incident as the first concrete proof that the 
object of our quest was no mare's nest. The next point 
was what was the visitor's object ? If to search, what would 
he have found ? 

'The charts, of course, with all our corrections and 
notes, and the log. They'd give us away,' was Davies's 
instant conclusion. Not having his faith in the channel 
theory, I was lukewarm about his precious charts. 

' After all, we're doing nothing wrong, as you've often 
said yourself,' I said. 

Still, as a true index to our mode of life they were the 



/ 

140 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

only things on board that could possibly compromise us, or 
suggest that we were anything more than eccentric young 
Englishmen cruising for sport (witness the duck guns) and 
pleasure. We had two sets of charts, German and English. 
The former we decided to use in practice, and to hide, to- 
gether with the log, if occasion demanded. My diary, I 
resolved, should never leave my person. Then ttiere were 
the naval books. Davies scanned them with a look I knew 
well. 

' There are too many of them,' he said, in the tone of a 
cook fixing the fate of superfluous kittens. 'Let's throw 
them overboard. They're very old anyhow, and I know 
them by heart.' 

' Well, not here 1 ' I protested, for he was laying greedy 
hands on the sheU ; * they'll be found at low wat^. In fact, 
I should leave them as they are. Tou had them when you 
were here before, and Dollmann knows you had them. If 
you return without them, it will look queer.' They were 
spared. 

The English charts being relatively useless, though 
more suitable to our rdle as English yachtsmen, were to be 
left in evidence, as shining proofs of our innocence. It was 
all delightfully casual, I could not help thinking. A seven- 
ton yacht does not abound in (dry) hiding-places, and we w^e 
helpless against a drastic search. If there were secrets on 
this coast to guard, and we were suspected as spies, there 
was nothing to prevent an official visit and warning. There 
need be no prowlers scuttling off when alarmed, unless 
indeed it was thought wisest to let well alone, if we were 
harmless, and not to arouse suspicions where there were 
none. Here we lost ourselves in conjecture. Whose agent 
was the prowler ? If Dollmann's, did Dollmann know now 
that the * Dulcibella ' was safe and back in the region he 
had expelled her from ? If so, was he likely to return to 
the policy of violence? We found ourselves both glancing 
at the duck-guns strung up under the racks, and then we 





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THE PIEST NIGHT. IN THE ISLANDS 141 

both laughed and looked foolish. * A war of wits, and not 
of duck-guns,' I opined. ' Let's look at the chart.' 

The reader is already familiar with the general aspect of 
this singular region, and I need only remind him that the 
mainland is that district of Prussia which is known as East 
Friesland.^ It is a short, flat-topped peninsula, bounded 
on the west by the Ems estuary and beyond that by 
Holland, and on the east by the Jade estuary ; a low-lying 
country, containing great tracts of marsh and heath, and 
few towns of any size ; on the north side none. Seven 
islands lie off the coast. All, except Borkum, which is 
round, are attenuated strips, slightly crescent-shaped, rarely 
more than a mile broad, and tapering at the ends ; in length 
averaging about six miles, from Norderney and Juist, which 
are seven and nine respectively, to little Baltrum, which is 
only two and a half. 

Of the shoal spaces which lie between them and the 
mainland, two thirds dry at low- water, and the remaining 
third becomes a system of lagoons whose distribution is 
controlled by the natural drift of the North Sea as it forces 
its way through the intervals between the islands. Each 
of these intervals resembles the bar of a river, and is ob- 
structed by dangerous banks over which the sea pours at 
every tide scooping out a deep pool. This fans out and 
ramifies to east and west as the pent-up current frees itself, 
encircles the islands and spreads over the intervening flats. 
But the further it penetrates the less scouring force it has, 
and as a result no island is girt completely by a low- water 
channel. About midway at the back of each of them is a 
' watershed,' only covered for Ave or six hours out of the 
twelve. A boat, even of the lightest draught, navigating 
behind the islands must choose its moment for passing 
these. As to navigability, the * North Sea Pilot ' sums up the 
matter in these dry terms : — ' The channels dividing these 
islands from each other and the shore afford to the small craft 

* See Map opposite. 



142 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

of the oonntry the means of ooxnmunioation between the 
Ems and the Jade, to which desoription of yessels only 
they are available.' The islands are dismissed with a brief 
note or two about beacons and lights. 

The more I looked at the chart the more puzzled I 
became. The islands were evidently mere sandbanks^ with 
a cluster of houses and a church on each, the only hint of 
animation in their desolate ensemble being the occasional 
word < Bade-strand,' suggesting that they were visited in 
the summer months by a handful of townsfolk for the sea- 
bathing. Norderney, of course, was conspicuous in this 
respect ; but even its town, which I know by repute as a gay 
and fashionable watering-place, would be dead and emp^ 
for some months in the year, and could have no Commercicd 
importance. No man could do anything on the mainland 
coast — a monotonous line of dyke punctuated at intervals 
by an infinitesimal village. Olandng idly at the names of 
these villages, I noticed that they most of them ended in 
siel — ^a repulsive termination, that seemed appropriate to the 
whole region. There were Garolinensiel, Bensersiel, etc. 
Siel means either a sewer or a sluice, the latter probably in 
this case, for I noticed that each village stood at the outlet 
of a little stream which evidently carried off the drainage of 
the lowlands behind. A sluice, or lock, would be necessary at 
the mouth, for at high tide the land is below the level of the 
sea. Looking next at the sands outside, I noticed that across 
them and towards each outlet a line of booms was marked, 
showing that there was some sort of tidal approach to the 
village, evidently formed by the scour of the little stream. 

< Are we going to explore those ? ' I asked Davies. 

' I don't see the use,' he answered ; ' they only lead to 
thos6 potty little places. I suppose local galliots use them.' 
* How about your torpedo-boats and patrol-boats ? ' 

< They mighty at certain tides. But I can't see what 
value they'd be, unless as a refuge for a German boat in 
the last resort. They lead to no harbours. Wait 1 There's 



THE FIEBT NIGHT IN THE ISLANDS 148 

a little notcli in tbe dyke at Nenharlingersiel and Dor- 
numersiel, which may mean some sort of quay arrangement, 
but what's the use of that ? ' 

' We may as well visit one or two, I suppose ? ' 

' I suppose so ; but we don't want to be playing round 
villages. There's heaps of really important work to do, 
further out.' 

< Well, what do you make of this coast ? ' 

Davies had nothing but the same old theory, but he 
urged it with ^ force and keenness that impressed me more 
deeply than ever. 

' Look at those islands 1 ' he said. ' They're clearly the 
old line of coast, hammered into breaches by the sea. The 
space behind them is like an immense tidal harbour, thirty 
miles by five, and they screen it impenetrably. It's 
absolutely made for shallow war boats under skilled 
pilotage. They can nip in and out of the gaps, and di dge 
about from end to end. On one side is the Ems, on the 
other the big estuaries. It's a perfect base for torpedo- 
craft.' 

I agreed (and agree still), but still I shrugged my 
shoulders. 

* We go on exploring then, in the same way ? ' 

' Yes ; keeping a sharp look-out, though. Remember 
we shall always be in sight of land now.' 

* What's the glass doing ? ' 

* Higher than for a long time. I hope it won't bring 
fog. I know this district is famous for fogs, and fine 
weather at this time of year is bad for them anywhere. 
I would rather it blew, if it wasn't for exploring those gaps, 
where an on-shore wind would be nasty 6.80 to- 
morrow ; not later. I think I'll sleep in the saloon for the 
future^ after what happened to-nighi' . 



144 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



CHAPTER XV 

BBNSBBSIBL ^ 

Thv dedsiye incidents of oni oruise were now fast approach- 
ing. Looking back on the steps that led to them, and 
anxious that the reader should be wholly with us in our 
point of view, I think I cannot do better than give extracts 
from my diary of the next three days : — 

* Oct. 16 (up at 6.80, yacht high and dry). Of the three 
gaUiots out at anchor in the channel yesterday, only one is 
left. ... I took my turn with the breakers this morning 
and walked to Wangeroog, whose village I found half lost 
in sand drifts, which are planted with tufts of marram- 
grass in mathematical rows, to give stability and {ffeyent a 
catastrophe like that at Pompeii. A friendly grocer told 
me all there is to know, which is little. The islands are 
what we thought them-rbarren for the most part, with a 
small fishing population, and a scanty accession of summer 
visitors for bathing. The season is over now, and business 
slack for him. There is still, however, a little trade with 
the mainland in galliots and lighters, a few of which come 
from the " siels " on the mainland. " Had these harbours ? " 
I asked. ^'Mud-holes 1 '' he replied, with a contemptuous 
laugh. (He is a settler in these wilds, not a native.) Said 
he had heard of schemes for improving ihem, so as to 
develop the islands as health-resorts, but thought it was 
only a wild speculation. 

A heavy tramp back to the yacht, nearly crushed by 
' For this ohapter see Map at page 141. 



BENSEBSIEL 145 

impedimenta. While Davies made yet another thp, I 
stalked some birds with a gun, and obtained what resembled 
a specimen of the smallest variety of jack-snipe, and small 
at that ; but I made a great noise, which I hope persuaded 
somebody of the purity of our motives. 

' We weighed anchor at one o'clock, and in passing the 
anchored galliot took a good look at her. " Eormoran " 
was 6h. her stern ; otherwise she was just like a hundred 
others. Nobody was on deck. 

' We spent the whole afternoon till dark in exploring the 
Harle, or gap between Wangeroog and Spiekeroog ; the sea 
breaking heavily on the banks outside. . . . Fine as the 
day was, the scene from the offing was desolate to the last 
degree. The naked spots of the two islands are hideous in 
their sterility: melancholy bits of wreck- wood their only 
relief, save for one or two grotesque beacons, and, most 
bizarre of all, a great church-tower, standing actually in 
the water, on the north side of Wangeroog; a striking 
witness to the encroachment of the sea. On the mainland, 
which was barely visible, there was one very prominent 
landmark, a spire, which from the chart we took to be that 
of EsenSy a town four miles inland. 

' The days are growing short. Sunset is soon after five, 
and an hour later it is too dark to see booms and buoys 
distinctly. The tides also are awkward just now.^ High- 
water at morning and evening is between five and six — ^just 
at twilight. For the night, we groped with the lead into 
the Muschel Balge, the tributary channel which laps round 
the inside of Spiekeroog, and lay in two fathoms, clear of 
the outer swell, but rolling a little when the ebb set in 
strong against the wind. 

' A galHot passed us, going west, just as we were 
stowing sails ; too dark to see her name. Later, we saw 
her anchor-light higher up our channel. 

* I exclude all the teohnioalitieB that I can, bat the reader ahouid 
take note that the tlde-table is very important henceforward. 



146 THE BEDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' The great event of the day has heen the sighting of a 
small German gonhoat, steaming slowly west along the 
coast That was about half past four, when we were 
sounding along the Harle. 

* Davies identified her at onoe as the '^ ]^tz," Commander 
von Bruning's gunboat. We wondered if he recognised 
the ** Dolcibella," but, anyway, she seemed to take no notice 
of us and steamed slowly on. We quite expected to fall in 
with her when we came to the islands, but the actual sight 
of her has exdted us a good deaL She is an ugly, cranky 
little vessel^ painted grey, with one funnel. Davies is con- 
temptuous about her low freeboard forward ; says he would 
rather go to sea in the <<Dulce." He has her dimensions and 
armament (learnt from Brassey) at his fingers' ends : one 
hundred and forty feet by twenty-five, one 4*9 gun, one 8*4, 
and four maTims — ^an old type. Just going to bed; a 
bitterly cold night. 

*Oct. 17. — Glass blling heavily this morning, to our 
great disgust. Wind back in the S.W. and much warmer. 
Starting at 6.80, we tacked on the tide over the ** water- 
shed " behind Spiekeroog. So did the galliot we had seen 
last night, but we again missed identifying her, as she 
weighed anchor before we came up to her berth. Davies, 
however, swore she was the ** Eormoran." We lost sight 
of her altogether for the greater part of the day, which we 
spent in exploring the Otzumer Ee (the gap between 
I^geoog and Spiekeroog), {low and then firing some 
perfunctory shots at seals and sea-birds . . . (nautical 
details omitted). • • • In the evening we were hurrying 
back to an inside anchorage, when we made a bad mistake ; 
did, in fact, what we had never done before, ran aground on 
the very top of high water, and are now sitting hard and 
fast on the edge of the Bute Flat, south of the east spit of 
Langeoog. The light was bad, and a misplaced boom tricked 
us; kedging-off failed, and at eight p.m. we were left on a 
perfect Ararat of sand, and only a yard or two from that 



BENSEBSIEL 147 

accursed boom, which is perched on the very soxninit, as a 
lure to the unwary. It is going to blow hard too, though that 
is no great matter, as we are sheltered by banks on the sou'- 
west and nor'-west sides, the likely quarters. We hope to 
float at 6.15 to-morrow morning, but, to make sure of being 
able to get her off, we have been transferring some ballast 
to the dinghy, by way of lightening the yacht— a horrid 
business handling the pigs of lead, heavy, greasy, and 
black. The saloon is an inferno, the deck like a collier's, 
and ourselves like sweeps. 

* The anchors are laid out, and there is nothing more to 
be done. 

' Oct* 18. — Half a gale from the sou'-west when we 
turned out, but it helped us to float off safely at eox. The 
dinghy was very nearly swamped with the weight of lead 
in it, and getting the ballast back into the yacht was the 
toughest job of all. We got the dinghy alongside, and 
Davies jumped in (nearly sinking it for good), balanced 
himself, fended off, and, whenever he got a chance, 
attached fte pigs one by one on to a bight of rope, secured 
to the peak halyards, on which I hoisted from the deck. 
It was touch and go for a few minutes, and then easier. 

' It was nine before we had finished replacing the pigs 

in the hold, a filthy but delicate operation, as they fit like 

a puzzle, and if one is out of place the floor boards won't 

shut down. Ooming on deck after it, we saw to our 

surprise the ** Blitz," lying at anchor in the SchiU Balje, 

inside Spiekeroog, about a mile and a haU off. She must 

have entered the Otzumer Ee at high- water for shelter from 

the gale ; a neat bit of work for a vessel of her size, as 

Davies says she draws nine-foot-ten, and there can't be 

more than twelve on the bar at high- water neaps Several 

smacks had run in too, and there were two galliots further 

up our channel, but we couldn't make out if the ^ Eor- 

moran " was one. 

< When the banks uncovered we lay more quietly, so 

La 



148 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

landed and took a long, tempestuous walk oyer the But6» 
with oompass and notebooks. Betuming at two, we found 
the glass tumbling down almost visibly. 

* I suggested running for Bensersiel^ one of the mainland 
villages south-west of us, on the evening flood, as it seemed 
Just the right opportunity, if we were to visit one of those 
''siels" at alL Davies was very lukewarm, but events 
overcame him. At 8.80 a black ragged cloud, appearing 
to trail into the very sea, brought up a terrific squall. 
This passed, and there was a deathly pause of ten minutes 
while the whole sky eddied as with smoke- wreaths. Then 
an icy puff struck us from the north-west, rapidly veering 
till it reached north-east ; there it settled and grew harder 
every moment. 

' '' Sou'-west to north-east—- only the worst sort do that," 
said Davies. 

' The shift to the east changed the whole situation (as 
shifts often have before), making the Bute Flats a lee shore, 
while to windward lay the deep lagoons of the Otzumer Ee, 
bounded indeed by Spiekeroog, but still offering a big drift 
for wind and sea. We had to clear out sharp, so set the 
mizzen. It was out of the question to beat to windward, 
for it was blowing a hurricane in a few minutes. We 
must go to leeward, and Davies was for running further in 
well behind the Jans sand, and not risking Bensersiel. A 
blunder of mine, when I went to the winch to get up 
anchor, settled the question. Thirty out of our forty 
fathoms of chain were out. Confused by the motion and 
a blinding sleet-shower that had come on, and forgetting 
the tremendous strain on the cable, I cast the slack off the 
bitts and left it loose. There was then only one turn of 
the chain round the drum, enough in ordinary weather to 
prevent it running out. But now my first heave on the 
winch-lever started it slipping, and in an instant it was 
whizzing out of the hawse-pipe and overboard. I tried to 
stop it with my foot, stumbled at a heavy plunge of the 



BENSEBSIEL 149 

yacht, heard something snap below, and saw the last of it 
disappear. The yacht fell off the wind and drifted astern. 
I shouted, and had the sense to hoist the reefed foresail 
at once. Davies had her in hand in no time, and was 
steering south-west. Ooing aft I found him cool and 
characteristio. 

* " Doesn't matter," he said ; " anchor's buoyed.^ We'll 
come back to-morrow and get it. Can't now. Should 
have had to slip it anyhow; wind and sea too strong. 
We'll try for BensersieL Can't iarust to a warp and kedge 
out here." 

* An exciting run it was, across country so to speak, over 
an unboomed watershed; but we had bearings from our 
morning's walk. Shoal water all the way and a hollow sea 
breaking everywhere. We soon made out the Bensersiel 
booms, but even under mizzfin.and foresail only we travelled 
too fast, and had to heave to outside them, for the channel 
looked too shallow still. We lowered half the centre-board 
and kept her just holding her own to windward, through a 
most trying period. In the end had to run for it sooner 
than we meant, as we were sagging to leeward in spite of 
all, and the light was failing. Bore up at 5.15, and raced 
up the channel with the booms on our left scarcely visible 
in the surf and rising water. Davies stood forward, signal- 
ling — port, starboard, or steady — with his arms, while I 
wrestled with the helm, flung from side to side and flogged 
by wave-tops. Suddenly found a sort of dyke on our right 
just covering with sea. The shore appeared through scud, 
and men on a quay shouting. Davies brandished his left 
arm furiously ; I ported hard, and we were in smoother water. 
A few seconds more and we were whizzing through a sht 
between two wood jetties. Inside a small square harbour 

' Ever since leftying the Elbe we had had a buoy-line on our 
anchor a^nst the emergency of having to slip our cable and run. 
For the same reason the end of the chain was not made permanently 
fast below. 



160 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

showed, but there was no room to round up properly and 
no time to lower sails. Davies jost threw the kedge o^er, 
and it just got a grip in time to oheok our momentum and 
save our bowsprit from the quay-side. A man threw us a 
rope and we brought up alongside, rather bewildered. 

'Not more so than the natiyes, who seemed to think we 
had dropped from the sky. They were very friendly, with 
an underourrent of disappointment, having expected salvage 
work outside, I think. AU showed embarrassing helpful- 
ness in stowing sails, etc. We were rescued by a fussy 
person in uniform and spectacles, who swept them aside and 
announced himself as the Custom-house officer (fancy such 
a thing in this absurd mud-hole 1), marched down into the 
cabin, which was in a fearful mess and wringing wet, and 
producing ink, pen, and a huge printed form, wanted to 
know our cargo, our crew, our last port» our destination, 
our food, stores, and everything. No cargo (Pleasure) ; 
Captain, Davies; crew, mo; last port, Brunsbiittel; 
destination, England. What spirits had we? Whisky, 
produced* What salt ? Tin of Cerebos, produced, and a 
damp deposit in a saucer. What coffee? etc. Lockers 
searched, guns fingered, bunks rifled. Meanwhile the 
Oerman charts and the log, the damning clues to our pur- 
pose, were in full evidence, crying for notice which they did 
not get. (We had forgotten our precautions in the hurry 
of our start from the Bute.) When the huge form was as 
full as lie could make it, he suddenly became human, talka- 
tive, and thirsty ; and, when we treated him, patronising. 
It seemed to dawn on him that, under our rough clothes 
and crust of brine and grime, we were two mad and wealthy 
aristocrats, worthy protSgSs for a high official He insisted 
on our bringing our cushions to dry at his house, and, to 
get rid of him, we consented, for we were wet, hungry, and 
longing to change and wash. He talked himself away at 
last, and we hid the log and charts ; but he returned, in the 
postmaster's uniform this time» before we had finished 



BENSEBSIEL 151 

flapper, and haled us and our cushions up through dark and 
mud to his cottage near the quay. To reach it we crossed 
a small bridge spanning what seemed to be a small river 
with sluice-gates, just as we had thought. 

' He showed his prizes to his wife, who was quite flustered 
by the distinguished strangers, and received the cushions 
with awe ; and next we were carried off to the Oasthaus 
and exhibited to the village circle, where we talked ducks 
and weather. (Nobody takes us seriously ; I never felt less 
like a conspirator.) Our friend, who is a feather-headed 
chatterbox, is enormously important about Ms ridiculous 
little port, whose principal customer seems to be the 
Langeoog post-boat, a galliot running to and fro according 
to tide. A few lighters also come down the stream with 
bricks and produce from the interior, and are towed to the 
islands. The harbour has from five to seven feet in it for 
two hours out of twelve 1 Herr Schenkel talked us back to 
the yacht, which we found resting on the mud — and here 
we ar& Davies pretends there are harbour smells, and says 
he won't be able to sleep ; is already worrying about how 
to get away from here. Ashore, they were saying that it's 
impossible, under sail, in strong north-east winds, the 
channel being too narrow to tack in. For my part I find 
it a huge relief to be in any sort of harbour after a fort- 
night in the open. There are no tides or anchors to think 
aboul^ and no bumping or rolling. Fresh milk to-morrow 1 * 



158 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



CHAPTER XVI 

OOBCHAKDBB VON BB^NINQ 

To resume my story in narrative form. 

I was awakened at ten o'clock on the 19thy after a long 
and delicions sleep, by Davies's voice outside, talking his 
unmistakable German. Looking out, in my pyjamas, I 
saw him on the quay above in conversation with a man in 
a long mackintosh coat and a gold-laced navy cap. He 
had a close-trinmied auburn beard, a keen, handsome face, 
and an animated manner. It was raining in a raw air. 

They saw me, and Davies said : ' Hullo, Carruthers 1 
Here's Commander von Briining from the '' Blitz " — that's 
" meiner Freund " Carruthers ' (Davies was deplorably weak 
in terminations). 

The Commander smiled broadly at me, and I inclined an 
uncombed head, while, for a moment, the quest was a dream, 
and I myself felt unutterably squalid and foolish. I ducked 
down, heard them parting, and Davies came aboard. 

' We're to meet him at the inn for a talk, at twelve,' he 
said. 

His news was that the ' Blitz's ' steam-cutter had come 
in on the morning tide, and he had met von Bruning when 
marketing at the inn. Secondly, the ' Eormoran ' had also 
come in, and was moored close by. It was as clear as 
possible therefore that the latter had watched us, and was 
in touch with the ' Blitz,' and that both had seized the 
opportunity of our being cooped up in Bensersiel to take 
further stock of us. What had passed hitherto ? Nothing 



COMMANDEB VON BE1&NING 158 

much. Yon Bruning had greeted Davies with (X>rdml8nrpri^ 
and said he had wondered yesterday if it was the ' Duloi- 
bella ' that he had seen anchored behind Langeoog. Davies 
had explained that we had left the Baltic and were on our 
way home ; taking the shelter of the islands. 

' Supposing he comes on board and asks to see our log/ 
I said. 

'Pull it out/ said Davies. 'It's rot this hiding, aftes 
all. I say, I rather funk this interview ; what are we to 
say ? It's not in my line.' 

We resolved abruptly on an important change of plan, 
replaced the log and charts in the rack as the first logical 
step. They contained nothing but bearings, courses, and 
the bare data of navigation. To Davies they were hard- 
won secrets of vital import, to be lied for, however hard and 
distasteful lying was. I was cooler as to their value, but in 
any case the same thing was now in both our minds. 
There would be great difficulties in the coming interview 
if we tried to be too clever and conceal the fact that we had 
been exploring. We did not know how much von Briining 
knew. When had our surveillance by the 'Eormoran' 
b^;un? Apparently at Wangeroog, but possibly in the 
estuaries, where we had not fired a shot at duck. Perhaps 
he knew even more — Dollmann's treachery, Davies's escape, 
and our subsequent movements — we could not tell. On the 
other hand, exploration was known to be a fad of Davies's, 
and in September he had made no secret of it. It was 
safer to be consistent now. After breakfast we determined 
to find out something about the ' Eormoran,' which lay on 
the mud at the other side of the harbour, and accordingly 
addressed ourselves to two mighty sailors whose jerseys 
bore the legend 'Post,' and who towered conspicuous 
among a row of stolid Frisians on the quay, all gazing 
gravely down at us as at a curious bit of marine bric-&-brac. 
The twins (for such they proved to be) were most benignant 
giants, and asked us aboard the Post-boat galliot for a chat. 



154 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

It was easy to bring the talk oatiirally roond to the point 
we wiflhed, and we soon gained some most interesting 
information, delivered in the broadest Frisian, but in- 
telligible enough. They called the ' Eormoran ' a Memmert 
boat, or 'wreck-works' boat. It seemed that off the 
western end of Jtdstf the island lying west of Norderney, 
there lay the bones of a French war-yessel, wrecked ages 
ago. She carried bullion which has never been recovered, in 
spite of many efforts. A salvage company was trying for 
it now, and had works on Memmert, an adjacent sand- 
bank. ' That is Herr Orimm, the overseer Idmself,' they 
said, pointing to the bridge above the sluice-gates (I caU 
him ' Orimm ' because it describes him exactly). A man in 
a pilot jacket and peaked cap was leaning over the parapet. 

' What's he doing here ? ' I asked. 

They answered that he was often up and down the 
coast, work on the wreck being impossible in rough weather. 
They supposed he was bringing cargo in his galliot from 
Wilhelmshaven, all the Company's plant and stores coming 
from that port. He was a local man from Aurich ; an 
ex-tug skipper. 

We discussed this information while walking out over 
the sands to see the channel at low water. 

' Did you hear anything about this in September ? ' I 
asked. 

'Not a word. I didn't go to Juist. I would have 
probably, if I hadn't met DoUmann.' 

What in the world did it mean ? How did it affect our 
plans? 

< Look at bis boots if we pass him,' was all Davies had 
to suggest. 

The channel was now a ditch, with a trickle in i^ 
running north by east, roughly, and edged by a dyke of 
withies for the first quarter of a mile. It was still blowing 
fresh from the north-east, and we saw that exit was 
impossible in such a wind. 



COMMANDEB VON BRANINQ 155 

So back to the Tillage, a paltry bleak little place. 
We passed friend Grimm on the bridge ; a dark, olean- 
shaved, saturnine man, wearing shoes. Approaching the 
inn: 

'We haven't settled quite enough, have we?' said 
Davies. ' What about our future plans f ' 

' Heaven knows, we haven't,' I said. * But I don't see 
how we can. We must see how things go. It's past 
twelve, and it won't do to be late.' 

' Well, I leave it to you.' 

* AU right, I'll do my best. All you've got to do is to 
be yourself and tell one lie, if need be, about the trick 
Dollmann played you.' 

The next scene : von Brtining, Davies, and I, sitting 
over coffee and Eummel at a table in a dingy inn-parlour 
overlooking the harbour and the sea, Davies with a full box 
of matches on the table before him. The Commander gave 
us a hearty welcome, and I am bound to say I liked him at 
once, as Davies had done ; but I feared him too, for he had 
honest eyes, but abominably clever ones. 

I had impressed on Davies to talk and question as freely 
and naturally as though nothing uncommon had happened 
since he last saw von Brtining on the deck of the ' Medusa.' 
He must ask about Dollmann — the mutual friend — at the 
outset, and, if questioned about that voyage in his company 
to the Elbe, must lie like a trooper as to the danger he had 
been in. This was the one clear and essential necessity, 
where much was difficult. Davies did his duty with 
precipitation, and blushed when he put his question, in a 
way that horrified me, till I remembered that his em- 
banassment was due and would be ascribed to another 
cause. 

* Herr Dollmann is away still, I think,' said von Brtining. 
(So Davies had been right at Brunsbiittel.) *Were you 
thinking of looking him up again 9 ' he added. 

'Yes,' said Davies shortly. 



166 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' Weill I'm STue he's away. But his yacht is back, I 
believe — ^and Fraulein Dolimann, I suppose.' 

'H'm I ' said Davies ; ' she's a very fine boat that.' 

Our host smiled, gazing thoughtfully at Davies, who 
was miserable. I saw a chance and took it mercilessly. 

' We can call on Fraulein Dollmann, at least, levies/ 
I said, with a meaning smile at von Broning, 

' H'm I ' said Davies ; ' wiU he be back soon, do you 
think?' 

The Commander had begun to light a cigar and took 
his time in answering. 'Probably,' he said, after some 
puffing, 'he's never away very long. But you've seen 
them later than I have. Didn't you sail to the Elbe 
together the day after I saw you last ? ' 

'Oh, part of the way,' said Davies with great negli- 
gence. 'I haven't seen him since. He got there first; 
outsailed me.' 

' Gave you the slip, in fact 7 ' 

' Of course he beat me ; I was close-reefed. Besides * 

'Oh, I remember: there was a heavy blow; a devil 
of a heavy blow. I thought of you that day. How did 
you manage ? ' 

' Oh, it was a fair wind ; it wasn't far, you see.' 

' Grosse Gott ! In that ' He nodded towards the 

window whence the ' Dulcibella's ' taper mast could be seen 
pointing demurely heavenwards. 

' She's a splendid sea-boat,' said Davies indignantly. 

' A thousand pardons ! ' said von Briining, laughing. 

' Don't shake my faith in her,' I put in. ' I've got to 
get to England in l]^r.' 

' Heaven forbid ; I was only thinking that there must 
have been some sea round the Scharhorn that day ; a tame 
affair, no doubt, Herr Davies ? ' 

' Scharhorn 7 ' said Davies, who did not catch the idiom 
in the latter sentence. ' Oh, we didn't go that way. We 
out through the sands — by the Telte.' 



COMMANDER VON BB^NING 167 

* The Telte I In a north-west gale i ' The Commander 
started, ceased to smile, and only stared. (It was genuine 
surprise : I oould swear it. He had heard nothing of this 
before.) 

' Herr Dollmann knew the way/ said Davies doggedly. 
'He kindly offered to pilot me through, and I wouldn't 
have gone otherwise.' There was an awkward little pause. 

* He'led you well, it seems/ said von Briining. 

'Yes; there's a nasty surf there though, isn't there? 
But it saves six miles — ^and the Scharhorn. Not that I 
saved distance. I was fool enough to run aground.' 

' Ah i ' said the other with interest. 

'It didn't matter, because I was well inside then. 
Those sands are difficult at high water. We've come back 
that way, you know.' 

(' And we run aground every day,' I remarked with 
resignation.) 

* Is that where the ''Medusa" gave you the sUp?' asked 
von Briining, still studying Davies with a strange look, 
which I strove anxiously to analyse. 

' She wouldn't have noticed,' said Davies. ' It was very 
thick and squally — ^and she had got some way ahead. It 
was no need for her to stop, anyway. I got off all right ; 
the tide was rising still. But of course I anchored there 
for that night.' 

'Where?' 

'Inside there, under the Hohenhdm,' said Davies 
simply. 

' Under the what f ' 

' The Hohenhorn.' 

' Go on— didn't they wait for you at Cuxhaven ? ' 

' I don't know ; I didn't go that way.' 

The Commander looked more and more puzzled. 

' Not by the ship canal, I mean. I changed my mind 
about it, because the next day the wind was easterly. It 
would have been a dead beat across the sands to Cuxhaven, 



158 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

while it inifl a iair wind straight oat to the Eider Biver. 
So I sailed there, and reached the Baltic that way. It was 
all the same.' 

There was another pause. 

< Well done, Davies/ I thought. He had told his storj 
well, nsing no subtlety. I knew it was exactly how he 
would have told it to any one else, if he had not had irrefut- 
able proof of foul play. 

The Commander laughed, suddenly and heartily. 

< Another liqueur? ' he said. Then, to me : ' Upon my 
word, your friend amuses me. It's impossible to make 
him spin a yam. I expect he had a bad time of ii' 

'That's nothing to him,' I said; 'he prefers it. He 
anchored me the other day behind the Hohenhdm in a 
gale of wind ; said it was safer than a harbour and more 
sanitary.' 

* I wonder he brought you here last night. It was a 
fair wind for England ; and not very far.' 

* There was no pilot to follow, you see.' 
' With a charming daughter — no.' 

Davies frowned and glared at me. I was merciful and 
changed the subject. 

' Besides,' I said, 'we've left our anchor and chain out 
there ; ' and I made confession of my sin. 

' Well, as it's buoyed, I should advise you to pick it up 
as soon as you can,' said von Bruning carelessly ; ' or some 
one else will.' 

' Yes, by Jove I Garruthers,' said Davies eagerly, ' we 
must get out of this next tide.' 

' Ohf there's no hurry,' I said, partly from policy, partly 
because the ease of the shore was on me. To sit on a 
chair upright is something of a luxury, however good the 
cause in which you have crouched like a monkey over a 
table at the level of your knees, with a reeking oil-stove at 
your ear. 

« They're honest enough about here, aren't they?' I 



COMMANDER VON BBtJNING 159 

added. While the words were on my lips I remembered 
the midzdght visitor at Wangeroog, and guessed that von 
Briining was leading np to a test. Grimm (if he was 
the visitor) wonld have told him of his narrow escape 
from detection, and reticence on our part would show we 
suspected something. I could have Mcked myself, but it 
was not too late. I took the bull by the horns, and, before 
the Commander could answer, added : 

* By Jove I Davies, I forgot about that fellow at Wan- 
geroog. The anchor might be stolen, as he says.' 

Davies looked blank, but von Bruning had turned to me. 

* We never dreamed there would be thievesamong these 
islands,' I said, 'but the other night I nearly caught a 
fellow in the act. He thought the yacht was empty.' 

I described the taS&ii in detail, and with what humour 
I could. Our host was amused, and apologetic for the 
islanders. 

* They're excellent folk,' he said, * but they're born with 
predatory instincts. Their fathers made their living out 
of wrecks on this coast, and the children inherit a weakness 
for plunder. When Wangeroog lighthouse was built they 
petitioned the Government for compensation, in perfect 
good faith. The coast is well lighted now and windfalls are 
rare, but the sight of a stranded yacht, with the owners 
ashore, would inflame the old passion ; and, depend upon it, 
some one has seen that anchor-buoy.' 

The word 'wrecks' had set me tingling. Was it 
another test ? Impossible to say ; but audacity was safer 
than reserve, and might save trouble in the future. 

'Isn't there the wreck of a treasure-ship somewhere 
farther west ? ' I asked. ' We heard of it at Wangeroog ' 
(my first inaccuracy). ' They said a company was exploit- 
ing it.' 

' Quito right,' said the Commander, without a sign of 
embarrassment. 'I don't wonder you heard of it. It's 
one of the few things folk have to talk about in these parts. 



160 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

It lids on the Juister Biff, a shoal off Jrdst.' She was a 
Frenoh frigate, the '^Oorinne," bound from Hamburg to 
HaTre in 1811, when Napoleon held Hamburg as tight 
as Paris. She carried a million and a half in gold bars, 
and was insured in Hamburg ; foundered in four fathoms, 
broke up, and there lies the treasure.' 

' Never been raised ? ' 

' No. The underwriters failed and went bankrupt, and 
the wreck came into the hands of your English Lloyd's. It 
remained their property till '75, but they never got at the 
bullion. In fact, for fifty years it was never scratched at, 
and its very position grew doubtful, for the sand swallowed 
every stick. The rights passed through various hands, and 
in '86 were held by an enterprising Swedish company, 
which brought modem appliances, dked, dredged and dug, 
fished up a lot of timber and bric-4-brac, and then broke. 
Since then, two Hamburg firms have tackled the job and 
lost their capital. Scores of lives have been spent over it, 
all told, and probably a million of money. Still there are 
the bars, somewhere.' 

' And what's being done now ? ' 

' Well, recently a small local company was formed. It 
has a depdt at Memmert, and is worldng with a good deal 
of perseverance. An engineer from Bremen was the 
principal mover, and a few men from Nordemey and Emden 
subscribed the capital. By the way, our friend DoUmann 
is largely interested in it.' 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Davies's tell-tale 
face growing troubled with inwuid questionings. 

' We mustn't get back to him,' I said, laughing. * It's 
not fair to my friend. But all this is very interesting. 
Will they ever get those bars ? ' 

'Ah I that's the point,' said von Bruning, with a 
mysterious twinkle. 'It's an undertaking of immense 
difficulty ; for the wreck is wholly disintegrated, and the 

> See Map at page 141. 



COMMANDER VON BRUNING 161 

gold, being the heaviest part of it, has of course smik the 
deepest. Dredging is useless after a Of.uain point; and 
the divers have to make excavations in the sand, and shore 
them up as best they can. Every gale nullifies half their 
labour, and weather like this of the last fortnight plays the 
mischief with the work. Only this morning I met the over- 
seer, who happens to be ashore here. He was as black as 
thunder over prospects.' 

^Well, it's a romantic speculation,' I said. 'They 
deserve a return for their money.' 

' I hope they'll get it,' said the Commander. * The fact 
is, I hold a few shares myself.' 

* Oh, I hope I haven't been asking indiscreet questions ? ' 

• Oh, dear no ; all the world knows what I've told you. 
But you'll understand that one has to be reticent as to 
results in such a case. It's a big stake, and the title is none 
too sound. There has been litigation over it. Not that I 
worry much about my investment ; for I sha'n't lose much 
by it at the worst. But it gives one an interest in this 
abominable coast. I go and see how they're getting on 
sometimes, when I'm down that way.' 

' It i5 an abominable coast,' I agreed heartily, ' though 
you won't get Davies to agree.' 

' It's a magnificent place for sailing,' said Davies, looking 
wistfully out over the storm-speckled grey of the North Sea. 

He underwent some more chaff, and the talk passed to 
our cruising adventures in the Baltic and the estuaries. 
Von Briining cross-examined us with the most charming 
urbanity and skill. Nothing he asked could cause us the 
slightest offence ; and a responsive frankness was our only 
possible course. So, date after date and incident after inci- 
dent were elicited in the most natural way. As we talked. 
I was astonished to find how little there was that was wortii 
concealing, and heartily thankful that we had decided on 
candour. My fluency gave me the lead, and Davies followed 
me; but his own personality was really our tower of 



% 




162 THE RIDDLE OF THE BANDS 



Btrengih. I realised that, as I watohed the play of his 
eager features, and heard him straggle for expression on his 
fayourite hobby ; all his pet phrases translated oradely into 
the most exoradating Qerman. He was convincing, be- 
cause he was himself. 

' Are there many like yon in England ? ' asked von 
Broning once. 

' like me 9 Of course — ^lots,' said Davies. 

'I wish there were more in Oermany; they play at 
yachting over here — on shore half the time, drinking and 
loafing ; paid crews, clean hands, white trousers ; lay up in 
the middle of September.' 

'We haven't seen many yachts about,' said Davies 
politely. 

For my part, I made no pretence to being a Davies. 
Faithful to my lower nature, I vowed the Qermans were 
right, and not without a secret zest drew a lurid picture of 
the horrors of crewless cruising and the drudgery that my 
remorseless skipper inflicted on me. It was delightful to 
see Davies wincing when I described my first night at 
Flensburg, for I had my revenge at last and did not spare 
him. He bore up gallantly under my jesting, but I knew 
very well by his manner thit he had not forgiven me my 
banter about the ' charming daughter.' 

' Ton speak German well,' said von Briining. 

'I have lived in Germany,' said I. 

' Studying for a profession, I suppose f ' 

' Yes,' said I, thinking ahead. < Civil Service ' was my 
prepared answer to the next question, but again (morbidly, 
perhaps) I saw a pitf aU. That letter from my chief await- 
ing me at Norderney ? My name was known, and we were 
watched. It might be opened. Lord! how casual we 
had been! 

'May I ask what?' 

' Thh Foreign Office.' It sounded suspicious, but there 
it was. 



COMMANDER VON BRUNING 163 

'Indeed — ^in the Oovernment Service? When do yon 
have to be back 9 ' 

That was how the question of ottr future intentions was 
raised, prematurely for me; for two conflicting theories 
were clashing in my brain. But the contents of the letter 
dogged me now, and ' when at a loss, tell the truth,' was an 
axiom I was finding sound. So I answered ' Pretty soon ; 
in about a week. But I'm expecting a letter at Nordemey, 
which may give me an extension. Davies said it was a 
good address to give,' I added, smiling. 

'Naturally,' said von Briining dryly; the joke had 
apparently ceased to amuse him. * But you haven't much 
time then, have you ? ' he added, * unless you leave your 
skipper in the lurch. It's a long way to England, and the 
season is late for yachts.' 

I felt myself being hurried. 

* Oh, you don't understand,' I explained ; * he's in no 
hurry He's a man of leisure, aren't you, Davies?' 

< What ? ' said Davies. 

I translated my cruel question-. 

* Tes,' said Davies, with simple pathos. 

' If I have to leave him, I sha'n't be missed — as an able 
seaman at least. He'll just potter on down the islands, 
running aground and kedging o£^ and arrive about 
Ghristmas.' 

'Or take the first fair gale to Dover,' laughed the 
Gommander. 

* Or that. So you see we're in no hurry ; and we never 
make plans. And as for a passage to England straight, 
I'm not such a coward as I was at first, but I draw the line 
at that.' 

' You're a curious pair of shipmates ; what's your point 
of view, Herr Davies ? ' 

'I like this coast,' said Davies. 'And — ^we want to 
shoot some ducks.' He was nervous and forgot himself. 
I had already satirised our sporting armament and exploits, 

m2 



164 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

and hoped the subjeot was disposed of. Dnoks were 
pretexts and might lead to oomplioations. I portionlarly 
wanted a free hand. 

'As to wild-fowl,' said our friend, 'I would like to 
give you gentlemen some advice. There are plenty to be 
got, now that autumn weather has set in (you wouldn't 
have got a shot in September, Herr Davieer; I remember 
your asking about them when I saw you last). And even 
now it's early for amateurs. In hard winter weather 
a child can pick thmn up ; but they're wild still, and want 
crafty hunting. You want a local punt, and above all a 
local man (you could stow him in your fo'c'sle), and to go 
to work seriously. Now, if you really wish for sporty I 
could help you. I could get you a trustworthy ' 

' Oh, it's too good of you,' stammered Davies, in a more 
unhappy accent than usual. ' We can easily find one for 
ourselves. A man at Wangeroog offered ' 

' Oh, did he ? ' interrupted von Bruning, laughing. * I'm 
not surprised. Tou don't know the Frieslanders. They're 
guileless, as I said, but they cling to their little perquisites.' 
(I translated for Davies.) * They've been cheated out of 
wrecks and they're all the more sensitive about ducks, which 
are more lucrative than fish. A stranger is a poacher. Your 
man would have made slight errors as to time and place.' 

' Tou said they were odd in their manner, didn't you, 
Davies?' I put in. 'Look here, this is very kind of 
Commander von Bruning ; but hadn't we better be certain 
of my plans before settling down to shoot 7 Let's push 
on direct to Nordemey and get that letter of mine, and 
then decide. But we sha'n't see you again, I suppose, 
Gommander ? ' 

'Why not? I am cruising westwards, and shi^ 
probably call at Norderney. Gome aboard if you're there^ 
won't you ? I should like to show you the '' Blitz." ' 

* Thanks very much,' said Davies, uneasily. 

* Thanks very much,' said I, as heartily as I could. 



COMMANDER VON BBUNING 166 

Our party broke up soon after this. 

' Well, gentlemen, I must take leave of jou,' said our 
friend. < I have to drive to Esens. I shall be going back 
to the ** Blitz " on the evening tide, but you'll be busy then 
with your own boat.' 

It had been a puzzling interview, but the greatest puzzle 
was still to come. As we went towards the door, von 
Bruning made a sign to me. We let Davies pass out and 
remained standing. 

' One word in confidence with you, Herr Oarruthers,' he 
said, speaking low. ' Tou won't i^nk me officious, I hope. 
I only speak out of keen regard for your friend. It is 
about the DoUmanns — you see how the land lies. I 
wouldn't encourage him.' 

' Thanks,' I said, * but really ' 

'It's only a hint. He's a splendid young fellow, but if 
anything — you understand — too honest and simple. I take 
it you have influence with him, and I should use it.' 

' I was not in earnest,' I said. ' I have never seen the 
Dollmanns ; I thought they were friends of yours,' I added, 
looking him straight in the eyes. 

'I know them, but' — he shrugged his shoulders — 'I 
know everybody.' 

' What's wrong with them 9 ' I said, point blank. 

' Softly I Herr Garruthers. Bemember, I speak out of 
pure friendliness to you as strangers, foreigners, and 
young. Tou I take to have discretion, or I should 
not have said a word. Still, I will add this. We know 
very little of Herr Dollmann, of his origin, his ante- 
cedents. He is half a Swede, I believe, certainly not a 
Prussian ; came to Nordemey three years ago, appears to 
be rich, and has joined in various commercial undertakings. 
Little scope about here? Oh, there is mor& enterprise 
than you think — development of bathing resorts, you know, 
speculation in land on these islands. Sharp practice ? Oh, 
not he's perfectly straight in that way. But he's a queer 



166 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

fellow, of ecoentrio habits and — and, well, as I say, little 
is known of him* That's all, just a warning. Oome 
along.' 

I saw that to press him further was useless. 

* Thanks ; I'll remember,' I said. 

'And look here,' he added, as we walked down the 
passage, ' if yon take my advioe, yon'Il omit that visit to 
the " Medusa " altogether.' 

He gave me a steady look, smiling gravely. 

< How muoh do you know, and what do you mean ? ' 
were the questions that throbbed in my thoughts ; but I 
could not utter them, so I sai^ nothing and felt very 
young. 

Outside we joined Davies, who was knitting his brow 
over prospects* 

* It just comes of going into places like this,' he said to 
me. ' We may be stuck here for ds^s. Too much wind 
to tow out with the dinghy, and too narrow a channel to 
beat in.' 

Von Bruning was ready with a new proposal. 

'Why didn't I think of it before? ' he said. 'I'll tow 
you out in my launch. Be ready at 6.80 ; we shall have 
water enough then. My men will send you a warp.' 

It was impossible to refuse, but a sense of being per- 
sonally conducted again oppressed me ; and the last hope 
of a bed in the inn vanished. Davies was none too effusive 
either. A tug meant a pilot, and he had had enough of 
them. 

* He objects to towage on principle,' I said. 

'Just like himl' laughed the other. 'That's settled, 
then!' 

A dogcart was standing before the inn door in readi- 
ness for von Briining. I was curious about Esens, and his 
business there. Esens, he said, was the principal town of 
the district^ lour miles inlana. 

I havtp to go there,' he volunteeredf ' about a poaching 



Si- 



COMMANDEB VON BEANINO 167 

Dutchman trawling inside our limits. That's my 
"" work, you know — ^police duty.' 

Had the words a deeper meaning ? 
'Do you ever catoh an Englishman?' I asked reck- 
lessly. 

* Oh, very rarely ; your countrymen don't come so far 
as this — except on pleasure.' He bowed to us each and 

r smiled. 

* Not much of that to be got in Bensersiel,' I laughed. 

*^ ' I'm afraid you'll have a dull afternoon. Look here. 

I know you can't leave your boat altogether, and it's no use 

asking Herr Davies ; but will ^oi^ drive into Esens with me 
^ and see a Fridan town — for what it's worth? You're 

. getting a dismal impression of Friesland,' 

r I excused myself, said I would stop with Davies ; we 

would walk out over the sands and prospect for the 

evening's sail. 

' Well, good-bye, then,' he said, * till the evening. Be 

ready for the warp at 6.80.' 

He jumped up and the cart rattled off through the 

mud, crossed the bridge and disappeared into the dreary 

hinterland. 



168 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 



CHAPTEB XVn 

OLBASINa THB AIB 

<Hab hfl gone to get the polioe, do you think? ' said Daviei 

grimly. 

* I don't think so/ said L ' Let's go aboard before that 
Customs fellow buttonholes us/ 

A diminished row of stolid Frisians still ruminated 
over the ' Dulcibella.' Friend Qrimm was visible smoking 
on his forecastle. We went on board in silence. 

' First of all, where exactly is Memmert ? ' I said. 

Davies pulled down the chart, said * There,' and flung 
himself at full length on a sofa. 

The reader can see Memmert for himself. South of 
Juist,^ abutting on the Ems delta, lies an extensiye sand- 
bank called Nordland, whose extreme western rim remains 
uncovered at the highest tides ; the effect being to leave a 
C-shaped island, a mere paring of sand like a boomerangi 
nearly two miles long, but only 150 yards or so broad, of 
curiously symmetrical outline, except at one spot, where it 
bulges to a width of a quarter of a mile. On the English 
chart its nakedness was absolute, save for a beacon at tiie 
south; but the German chart marked a building at th^ 
point where the bulge occurs. This was evidently the 
dep6t. * Fancy living there I ' I thought, for the very name 
struck cold. No wonder Orimm was grim ; and no wonder 
he was used to seek change of air. But the advantages of 
the site were obvious. It was remarkably isolated, even in 

* See Map at pago HI, 



CLEABING THE AIB 169 

a region where isolation is the rale ; yet it was oonveniently 
near the wreck, which, as we had heard, lay two miles out 
on the Juister Beef. Lastly, it was dearly accessible at 
any state of the tide, for the six fathom channel of the 
Ems estuary runs hard up to it on the south, and thence 
sends off an eastward branch which closely borders the 
southern horn, thus offering an anchorage at once handy, 
deep, and sheltered from seaward gales. 

Such was Memmert as I saw it on the chart, taking 
in its features mechanically, for while Davies lay there 
heedless and taciturn, a pretence of interest was useless. 
I knew perfectly well what was between us, but I did not 
see why I should make the first move ; for I had a griev- 
ance too, an old one. So I sat back on my sofa and jotted 
down in my notebook the heads of our conversation at the 
inn while it was fresh in my memory, and strove to draw 
conclusions. But the silence continuing and becoming 
absurd, I threw my pride to the winds and my notebook on 
the table. 

' I say, Davies,' I said, ' I'm awfully sorry I chaffed you 
about Fraulein DoUmann/ (No answer.) ' Didn't you see 
I couldn't help it ? ' 

' I wish to heaven we had never come in here,' he said 
in a hard voice ; ' it comes of landing ever.' (I couldn't 
help smiling at this, but he wasn't looking at me.) ' Here 
we are, given away, moved on, taken in charge, arranged 
for like Cook's tourists. I couldn't follow your game — 
too infernally deep for me, but ' That stung me. 

' Look here,' I said, < I did my best. It was you that 
muddled it. Why did you harp on ducks ? ' 

* We could have got out of that. Why did you harp on 
everything idiotic — your letter, the Foreign Office, the 
Kormoran, the wreck— tiie ' 

'You're utterly unreasonable. Didn't you see what 
traps there were? I was driven the way I went. We 
started unprepared, and we're jolly well out of it.' 



170 THE EIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

Davies drove on blindly. 'It was bad enough telling 
all about the channels and exploring ' 

* Why, you agreed to that yourself I ' 

* I gave in to you. We can't explore any more now/ 
' There's the wreck, though.' 

' Oh, hang the wreck I It's all a blind, or he wouldn't 
have made ao much of lb There are all these channela 
to be • 

'Oh, hang the channels I I know we wanted a free 
hand, but we've got to go to Nordemey some time, and if 
DoUmann's away ' 

'Why did you harp on Miss DoUmann?' said Davies. 

We had worked round, through idle recrimination, to 
the real point of departure. I knew Davies was not himself, 
and would not return to himself till the heart of the matter 
was reached. 

' Look here,' I said, 'you brought me out here to help 
you, because, as you say, I was clever, talked Gemuua 
and — liked yachting (I couldn't resist adding this). But 
directly you really want me you turn round and go for me.' 

' Oh, I didn't mean all that, reaUy,' said Davies ; ' I'm 
sorry — ^I was worried.' 

'I know; but it's your own fault. Tou haven't been 
fair with me. There's a complication in this business that 
you've never talked about. I've never pressed you because 
I thought you would confide in me. You * 

' I know I haven't,' said Davies. 

' Well, you see the result. Our hand was forced. To 
have said nothing about Dollmann was folly — to have 
said he tried to wreck you was equal f oUy. The story we 
agreed on was the best and safest, and you told it splendidly. 
But for two reasons X had to harp on the daughter — one, 
because your manner when they were mentioned was so 
confused as to imperil our whole position. Two, because 
your story, though the safest, was, at the best, suspicious. 
Even on your own showing Dollmann treated you badly— 



CLEARING THE AIB 171 

disoonrteonsly, say ; though you pretended not to have seen 
it. You want a motive to neutralise that, and induce you 
to revisit him in a friendly way. I supplied it, or rattier 
I only encouraged von Briining to supply it.' 

* Why revisit him, after all f ' said Davies. 

* Oh, come ' 

' But don't you see what a hideous fix you've put me 
in? How caddish I feel about it ? ' 

I did see, and I felt a cad myself, as his full distress 
came home to me. But I felt tod that, whosesoever the 
fault, we had drifted into a ridiculous situation, and were like 
characters in one of those tiresome plays where misunder- 
standings are manufactured and so carefully sustained 
that the audience are too bored to wait for the denouement. 
You can do that on the stage ; but we waiited our cUnotte- 
tnent, 

* I'm very sorry,' I said, * but I wish you had told me all 
about it. Won't you, now? Just the bare matter-of-fact 
truth. I hate sentiment, and so do you.' 

'I find it very difficult to tell people things,' said 
Davies, 'things like this.' I waited. 'I did like her — 
very much.' Our eyes met for a second, in which all was 
said that need be said, as between two of our phlegmatic 
race. 'And she's — separate from him. That was the 
reason of all my indecision,' he hurried on. * 1 only told 
you half at Schlei. I know I ought to have been open and 
asked your advice. But I let it slide. I've been hoping all 
along that we might find what we want and win the game 
without coming to close quarters again.' 

I no longer wondered at his devotion to the channel 
theory, since, quilt on conviction, it was thus doubly 
fortified. 

' Yet you always knew what might happen,' I said. ' At 
Schlei you spoke of "settling with" DoUmann.' 

* I know. When I thought of him I was mad. I made 
myself forget the other part.' 



na THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

'Wbioh reouxred at Bnmsbiiltel?' I thought of the 
news we had there. * 

'Yes.' 

' Davies, we must have no more eecrets. I'm going to 
speak oat. Are you sure you've not misunderstood her ? 
You say — and I'm willing to assume it — that DoUmann's 
a traitor and a murderer.' 

' Oh, hang the murder part I ' said Davies impatiently. 
* What does that matter? ' 

* Well, traitor. Very good ; but in that case I suspect 
his daughter. No 1 let me go on. She was useful, to say 
the leasi She encouraged you— you've told me that — ^to 
make that passage with them.' 

'Stop, Garruthers,' said Davies firmly. 'I know you 
mean kindly ; but it's no use. I believe in her.' 

I thought for a moment. 

'In that case,' I said, 'I've something to propose. 
When we get out of this place let's sail straight away to 
England.' (' There, Commander von Briining,' I thought, 
'you never can say I neglected your advice.') 

'No I' exclaimed Davies, starting up and facing me. 
' I'm hanged if we will. Think what's at stake. Think of 
that traitor — ^plotting with Oermans. My God I ' 

' Very good,' I said. ' I'm with you for going on. But 
let's face facts. We mrnt scotch DoUmann. We can't do 
so without hurting her,' 

' Oan't we possibly ? ' 

' Of course not ; be sensible, man. Face that. Next 
point : it's absurd to hope that we need not revisit them 
— ^it's ten to one that we must, if we're to succeed. His 
attempt on you is the whole foundation of our suspicions. 
And we don't even know for certain who he is yet. We're 
committed, I know, to going straight to Nordemey now ; 
but even if we weren't, should we do any good by exploring 
and prying ? It's very doubtful. We know we're watched, 
If not suspected, and that disposes of nine-tenths of our 



OLEABING THE AIB 178 

power. The channels ? Tes, but is it likely they'll let ns 
learn them by heart, if they're of such vital importance, 
even if we are thought to be bona-fide yachtsmen f And, 
seriously, apart from their value in war, which I don't deny, 
are they at the root of this business ? But we'll talk about 
that in a moment. The point now is, what shall we do if 
we meet the Dollmanns ? ' 

Beads of sweat stood on Davies's brow. I felt like a 
torturer, but it could not be helped. 'Tax him with 
haying wrecked you? Our quest would be at an end I 
We must be friendly. You must tell the story you told 
to-day and chance his believing it. If he does, so much 
the better ; if he doesn't, he won't dare say so, and we still 
have chances. We gain time and have a tremendous hold 
on him — if we're friendly.' Davies winced. I gave another 
turn to the screw. 'Friendly with them both of course. 
You were before, you know ; you liked her very much — 
you must seem to still.' 

' Oh, stop your infernal logic' 

' Shall we chuck it and go to England ? ' I asked again, 
as an inquisitor might say, ' Have you had enough ? ' No 
answer. I went on : 'To make it easier, you do like her 
still.' I had roused my victim at last. 

' What the devil do you mean, Garruthers? That I'm 
to trade on my liking for her — on her innocence, to— good 
God ! what do you mean ? ' 

' No, no, not that. I'm not such a cad, or such a fool^ 
or so ignorant of you. If she knows nothing of her father's 
character and likes you— and you like her— and you are 
what you are — oh, heavens ! man, face it, realise it I But 
what I mean is this ; is she, can she be, what you think ? 
Imagine his position, if we're right about him : the vilest 
creature on God's earth — ^a disgraceful past to have been 
driven to this — ^in ihe pay of Germany. I want to spare 
you misery.' I was going to add : ' And if you're on your 
guard, to increase our chances.' By the utter futility of 



174 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

such saggestions silenoed me. What a plan I had fore- 
shadowed I An enticing plan and a fiur one, too, as against 
such adversaries; taming this hafSing cross-current to 
advantage as nuinj a time we had worked eddies of an 
adverse tide in these difficult seas. But Davies was Davies, 
and there was an end of it ; his faith and simplicity shamed 
me. And the pity of it, the cruelty of it was that his very 
qualities were his last torture, raising to the aoutest pitch 
the conflict between love and patriotism. Remember that 
the latter was his dominant life-motive, and that here and 
now was his chance — ^if you would gauge the bitterness of 
that conflict. 

It was in its last throes now. His elbows were on the 
table and his twitching hands pressed on his forehead. He 
took them away. 

'Of course we must go on. It can't be helped, 
that's all' 

' And you believe in her ? ' 

* I'll remember what you've said. There may be some 
way out. And — ^I'd rather not talk about that any more. 
What about the wreck f * 

Further argument was futile. Davies by an effort 
seemed to sweep the subject from his thoughts, and I did 
my best to do the same. At any rate the air was cleared-^ 
we were friends ; and it only remained to grapple with the 
main problem in the light of the morning's interview. 

Every word that I could recollect of that critical 
conversation I reviewed with Davies, who had imperfectly 
understood what he had not been directly concerned in; 
and, as I did so, I began to see with what cleverness each 
succeeding sentence of von Briining's was designed to 
suit both of two contingencies. If we were innoceni 
travellers, he was the genial host, communicative and 
helpful. If we were spies, his tactics had been equally 
applicable. He had outdone us in apparent candour, hiding 
nothing which he knew we would discover for ourselves, 



OLEABINO THE AIB 175 

aod oontriving at the same time both to gain knowledge 
and control of our movements, and to convey us warnings, 
which would only be understood if we were guilty, that we 
were playing an idle and perilous game, and had better 
desist. But in one respect we had had the advantage, and 
that was in the version Davies had given of his stranding 
an the Hohenhom. Inscrutable as our questioner was, he 
let it appear not only that the incident was new to him, 
but that he conjectured at its sinister significance. A little 
cross-examination on detail would have been fatal to 
Davies's version ; but that was where our strength lay : he 
dared not cross-examine for fear of suggesting to Davies 
suspicions which he might never have felt. Indeed, I 
thought I detected that fear underlying his whole attitude 
towards us, and it strengthened a conviction which had been 
growing in me since Orimm's furtive midnight visit, that 
the secret of this coast was of so important and delicate a 
nature that rather than attract attention to it at all, overt 
action against intruders would only be taken in the last 
resort, and on irrefragable proofs of guilty intention. 

Now for our clues. I had come away with two, each 
the germ of a distinct theory, and both obscured by the 
prevailing ambiguity. Now, however, as we thumbed the 
chart and I gave full rein to my fancy, one of them, the 
idea of Memmert, gained precision and vigour everj 
moment. True, such information as we had about the 
French wreck and his own connection with it was placed 
most readily at our disposal by von Bruning ; but I took 
it to be information calculated only to forestall suspicion, 
since he was aware that we already associated him with 
Dollmann, possibly also with Orimm, and it was only 
likely that in the ordinary course we should learn that the 
trio were jointly concerned in Memmert. So much for 
the facts ; as for the construction he wished us to put on 
them, I felt sure it was absolutely false. He wished to give 
us the impression that the buried treasure itself was at the 



176 THE BIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

root of any mystery we might have scented. I do noi 
know if the reader fully appreciated that astute suggestion 
— the hint that secrecy as to results was necessary owiz^ 
both to the great sum at stake and the flaw in tiiie title, 
which he had been careful to inform us had passed through 
British hands. What he meant to imply was, ' Don't be 
surprised if you have midnight visitors; Englishmen 
prowling along this coast are suspected of being Lloyd's 
agents.' An ingenious insinuation, which, at the time it 
was made, had caused me to contemplate a new and much 
more commonplace solution of our enigma than had ever 
occurred to us; but it was only a passing doubt, and I 
dismissed it altogether now. 

The fact was, it either explained everything or nothing. 
As long as we held to our fundamental assumption — that 
Davies had been decoyed into a death-trap in September — 
it explained nothing. It was too fantastic to suppose that 
the exigencies of a commercial speculation would lead to 
such extremities as that. We were not in the South Sea 
Islands ; nor were we the puppets of a romance. We were 
in Europe, dealing not only with a Dollmann, but with an 
officer of the German Imperial Navy, who would scarcely 
be connected with a commercial enterprise which could 
conceivably be reduced to forwarding its objects in Quch a 
faushion. It was shocking enough to find him in relations 
with such a scoundrel at all, but it was explicable if the 
motive were imperial — not so if it were financial. No ; 
to accept the suggestion we must declare the whole quest a 
mare's nest from beginning to end ; the attempt on Davies 
a delusion of his own fancy, the whole structure we had 
built on it, baseless. 

' Well,' I can hear the reader saying, * why not ? You, 
at any rate, were always a little sceptical.' 

Granted ; yet I can truthfully say I scarcely faltered for 
a moment. Much had happened since Schlei Fiord. I had 
seen the mechanism of the death-trap ; I had lived with 



CLEABING THE AIB 177 

Davies for a stonny fortnight, every honr q|^ which had 
increased my reliance on his seamanship and also, therefore, 
on his aoconnt of an event which depended largely for 
its correct interpretation on a balanced nautical judgment. 
Finally, I had been unconsciously realising, and knew from 
his mouth to-day, that he had exercised and acted on that 
judgment in the teeth of personal considerations, which his 
loyal nature made overwhelming in their force. 

What, then, was the meaning of Memmert? At the 
outset it riveted my attention on the Ems estuary, whose 
mouth it adjoins. We had always rather neglected the Ems 
in our calculations ; with some excuse too, for at first sight 
its importance bears no proportion to that of the three 
greater estuaries. The latter bear vessels of the largest 
tonnage and deepest draught to the very quays of Hamburg, 
Bremerhaven, and the naval dockyard of Wilhelmshaven ; 
while two of them, the Elbe and the Weser, are commerce- 
carriers on the vastest scale for the whole Empire. The 
Ems, on the other hand, only serves towns of the second 
class. A glance at the chart explains this. You see a 
most imposing estuary on a grander scale than any of 
the other three taken singly, with a length of thirty miles 
and a frontage on the North Sea of ten miles, or one 
seventieth, roughly, of the whole seaboard ; encumbered bj 
outlying shoals, and blocked in the centre by the island oi 
Borkum, but presenting two fine deep-water channels to 
theincoming vessel. These roll superbly through enormous ) 
sheets of sand, unite and approach the mainland in one \ 
stately stream three miles in breadth. But then comes a \ 
sad falling off. The navigable fairway shoals and shrinks, ■ 
middle grounds obstruct ii^ and shelving foreshores per- 
sistently deny it that easy access to the land that alone can 
create great seaboard cities. All the ports of the Ems are 
tidal ; the harbour of Delfzyl, on the Dutch side, dries at 
low water, and Emden, the principal German port, can only 
be reached by a lock and a mile of canaL 

N 



rS THE BIDDLB OP THE BANDS 

But this depreoiation is only relative. Judged on its 
merits, and not by the standard of the Elbe, it is a very 
important river. Emden is a flourishing and gro^ring port. 
For shallow craft the stream is navigable far into the interior, 
where, aided by tributaries and allied canals (notably the con- 
nection with the Rhine at Dortmund, than approaching com- 
pletion), it taps the resources of a great area. Strategically, 
there was still less reason for underrating ii It is one of the 
great maritime gates of Germany ; and it is the westernmost 
gate, the nearest to Great Britain and France, contiguous to 
Holland. Its great forked delta presents two yawning breaches 
in that singular rampart of islets and shoals which masks the 
German seaboard — a seaboard itself so short, in proportion 
to the Empire's bulk, that, as Davies used to say, 'every 
inch of it must be important.' Warships could force these 
breaches, and so threaten the mainland at one of its few 
vulnerable points. Quay accommodation is no object to 
such visitors ; intricate navigation no deterrent. Even the 
heaviest battleships could approach within striking distance 
of the land, while cruisers and military transports could 
penetrate to the level of Emden itself. Emden, as Davies 
had often pointed out, is connected by canal with Wil- 
helmshaven on the Jade, a strategic canal, designed to 
carry gunboats as well as merchandise. 

Now Memmert was part of the outer rampart; its 
tapering sickle of sand directly commanded the eastern 
breach : it must be connected with the defence of this 
breach. No more admirable base could be imagined ; self- 
contained and isolated, yet sheltered, accessible — better than 
Juist and Borkum. And supposing it were desired to 
shroud the nature of the work in absolute secrecy, what a 
pretext lay to hand in the wreck and its buried bullion, 
which lay in the offing opposite the fairway I 

On Memmert was the depdt for the salvage operations. 
Salvage work, with its dredging and diving, offered pre- 
cisely the disguise that was needed. It was subnoarine, and 



OLEABING THE AIB 179 

80 are some of the most important defences of ports, mines, 
and dirigible torpedoes. All the details of the story were 
saggestive: the 'small looal company'; the 'engineer 
from Bremen ' (who, I wondered, was he ?) ; the few shares 
held by von Briining, enough to explain his visits ; the stores 
and gear coming from Wilhelmshayen, a naval dockyard. 

Try as I would I could not stir Davies's imagination 
as mine was stirred. He was bent on only seeing the 
objections, which, of course, were numerous enough. Gould 
secrecy be ensured under pretext of sabing a wreck ? It 
must be a secret shared by many — divers, crews of tugs, 
employes of all sorts. I answered that trade secrets are 
often preserved under no less difficult conditions, and why 
not imperial secrets ? 

' Why the Ems and not the Elbe ? ' he asked. 

'Perhaps,' I replied, 'the Elbe, too, held similar mys- 
teries.' Neuerk Island might for all we knew, be another 
Memmert ; when ^sruising in that region we had had no 
eyes for such things, absorbed in a preconceived theory of 
our own. Besides, we must not take ourselves too seriously. 
We were amateurs, not experts in coast defence, and on such 
vague grounds to fastidiously reject a clue which went so 
far as this one was to quarrel with our luck. There was a 
disheartening corollary to this latter argument that in my 
new-bom zeal I shut my eyes to. As amateurs, were we 
capable of using our clue and gaining exact knowledge of 
the defences in question? Davies, I knew, felt this 
strongly, and I think it accounted for his lukewarm view 
of Memmert more than he was aware. He clung more 
obstinately than ever to his ' channel theory,' conscious that 
it offered the one sort of opportunity of which with his 
peculiar gifts he was able to take advantage. He admittedi 
however, that it was under a cloud at present, for if know- 
ledge of the coastwise navigation were a crime in itself 
we should scarcely be sitting h^re now. * It's something 
to do with it, anyhow I ' he persisted. 

■ 2 



180 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB XVIII 

IICPBBIAL BSOOBT 

Mbmhbbt gripped me, then, to the exclusion of a rival 
notion which had given me no little perplexity daring the 
conversation with von Briining. 

His reiterated advice that we should lose no time in 
picking up our anchor and chain had ended by giving me 
the idea that he was anxious to get us away from Bensersiel 
and the mainland. At first I had taken the advice partly 
as a test of our veracity (as I gave the reader to understand), 
and partly as an indirect method of lulling any suspicions 
which Grimm's midnight visit may have caused. Then it 
struck me that this might be over-subtlety on my part, and 
the idea recurred when the question of our future plans 
cropped up, and hampered me in deciding on a course. It 
returned again when von Briining offered to tow us out in 
the evening. It was in my mind when I questioned him 
as to his business ashore, for it occurred to me that perhaps 
his landing here was not solely due to a wish to inspect 
the crew of the 'Dulcibella.' Then came his perfectly 
frank explanation (with its sinister dotihle entente for us), 
coupled with an invitation to me to accompany him to 
Esens. But, on the principle of 'timeo Danaos,' etc., I 
instantly smelt a ruse, not that I dreamt that I was to be 
decoyed into captivity ; but if there was anything here which 
we two might discover in the few hours left to us, it was an 
ingenious plan to remove the most observant of the two till 
the hour of departure. 



mPEBIAL ESCORT 181 

Davies scorned theniy and I had felt only a faint ourioeity 
in these insignificant hamlets, influenc^, I am afraid, chiefly 
by a hankering after terra firma which the pitiless rigour 
of his training had been unable to cure. 

But it was imprudent to neglect the slightest chance. 
It was three o'clock, and I think both our brains were begin- 
ning to be addled with thinking in close confinement. 1 
suggested that we should finish our council of war in the 
open, and we both donned oilskins and turned out. The 
sky had hardened and banked into an even canopy of lead, 
and the wind drove before it a fine cold rain. You could 
hear the murmur of the rising flood on the sands outside, 
but the harbour was high above it still, and the ' Duldbella ' 
and the other boats squatted low in a bed of black slime» 
Native interest seemed to be at last assuaged, for not a soul 
was visible on the bank (I cannot call it a quay) ; but tiie 
top of a black sou'-wester with a feather of smoke curling 
round it showed above the forehatch of the ' Eormoran.' 

' I wish I could get a look at your cargo, my friend,' I 
thought to myself. 

We- gazed at Bensersiel in silence. 

* There can't be anything here ? ' I said. 

' What can there be ? ' said Davies. 

' What about that dyke ? ' I said, with a sudden inspira- 
tion. 

From the bank we could see all along the coast line, 
which is dyked continuously, as I have already said. The 
dyke was here a substantial brick-faced embankment, very 
similar, though on a smaller scale, to that which had 
bordered the Elbe near Ouxhaven, and over whose summit 
we had seen the snouts of guns. 

' I say, Davies,' I said, ' do you think this coast could be 
invaded ? Along here, I mean, behind these islands ? ' 

Davies shook his head. 'I've thought of that,' he said. 
* There's nothing in it. It's just the very last place on 
earth where a landing would be possible. No transport 



188 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

oonld get nearer than where the ** BliiB " is lyingi four 
out.' 

< Well, you say every inoh of this ooast is important?* 

* Yes, but it's the water I mean.' 

' Well, I want to see that dyke. Let's walk along ii' 

My mushroom theory died directly I set foot on it. It 
was Uie most innooent structure in the world — ^like a 
thousand others in Essex and Holland — ^topped by a narrow 
path where we walked in single file with arms akimbo to 
keep our balance in the gusts of wind. Below us lay the 
sands on one side and rank fens on the other, interspersed 
with squares of pasture ringed in with ditches. Af t^ half 
a mile we dropped down and came back by a short circuit 
inland, following a mazy path — ^which was mostly right 
angles and minute plank bridges, till we came to the Esens 
road. We crossed this and soon after found our way barred 
by the stream I spoke oL This involved a dStour to the bridge 
in the village, and a stealthy avoidance of the post-ofiSce, for 
dread of its garrulous occupant. Then we followed the 
dyke in the other direction, and ended bv a curcuit over the 
sande, which were fast being covered by the tide, and so 
back to the yacht. 

Nobody appeared to have taken the slightest notice of 
our movements. 

As we walked we had tackled the last question, ' What 
are we to do?' and found very little to say on it. We 
were to leave to-night (unless the Esens police appeared 
on the scene), and were committed to sailing direct to 
Norderney, as the only alternative to duck-shooting under 
the espionage of a * trustworthy ' nominee of Von Briining'a 
Beyond that — vagueness and difficulty of every sort. 

At Norderney I should be fettered by my letter. U 
it seemed to have been opened and it ordered my return, I 
was limited to a week, or must risk suspicion by stay- 
ing. Dollmann was away (according to von Briining), 
* would probably be back soon ' ; but how soon ? Beyond 



IMPERIAL ESOOET 188 

Norderhey lay Memmert. How to probe its secret ? The 
ardour it had roused in me was giving way to a mortifying 
sense of impotenoe. The sight of the 'Eormoran/ with 
her crew preparing for sea, was a pointed comment on my 
diplomacy, and most of all on my ridiculous survey of the 
dykes. When all was said and done we were proUgis of 
Yon Briining, and dogged by Grimm. Was it likely they 
would let us succeed ? 

The tide was swirling into the harbour in whorls of 
chocolate froth, and as it rose all Bensersiel, dominated 
as before by Herr Schenkel, straggled down to the quay to 
watch the movements of shipping during the transient but 
momentous hour when the mud-hole was a seaport. The 
Captain's steam-cutter was already afloat, and her sailors 
busy with sidelights and engines. When it became known 
that we too w^re to sail, and under such distinguished 
escort, the excitement intensified. 

Again our friend of the Oustoms was spreading out 
papers to sign, while a throng of helpful Frisians, headed 
by the twin giants of the post-boat, thronged our decks and 
made us ready for sea in their own confused fashion. 
Again we were carried up to the inn and overwhelmed with 
advice and warnings and farewell toasts. Then back again 
to find the 'Dulcibella' afloat, and von Briining just 
arrived, cursing the Weather and the mud, chaffing DavieS, 
genial and d&bonnaire as ever. 

' Stow that mainsail, you won't want it,' he said. ' I'll 
tow you right out to Spiekeroog. It's your only anchorage 
for the night in this wind — ^under the island, near the 
" Blitz," and that would mean a dead beat for you in the 
dark.' 

The fact was so true and the offdr so timely that Davies's 
faint protests were swept aside in a torrent of ridicule. 

' And now I think of it,' the Commander ended, ' I'll 
make the trip with you, if I may. It'll be pleasanter and 
drier.' 



164 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

We all three boarded the ' Dulcibella,' and then the 
end oame. Our tow-rope was attached and at half -past six 
the little launch jumped into the collar, and amidst a 
demonstration that could not have been more hearty if we 
had been ambassadors on a Tisit to a friendly power, we 
sidled out through the jetties. 

It took us more than an hour to cover the five miles to 
Spiekeroog, for the ' Duldbella ' was a heavy load in the 
stiff head wind, and Davies, though he said nothing, showed 
undisguised distrust pf our tug's capacities. He at once 
left the helm to me and flung himself on the gear, not 
resting till every rope was ready to hand, the mainsail 
reefed, the binnacle lighted, and all ready for setting sail 
or anchoring at a moment's notice. Our guest watched 
these precautions with infinite amusement He was in the 
^ highest and most mischievous humour, raining banter on 
Davies and mock sympathy on me, laughing at our huge 
compass, heaving the lead himself, startling us with 
imaginary soundings and doubting if his men were sober. 
I offered entertainment and warmth below, but he declined 
on the ground that Davies would be tempted to cut the 
tow-rope and make us pass the night on a safe sandbank. 
Davies took the raillery unmoved. His work done he 
took the tiller and sat bareheaded, intent on the launch, 
the course, the details and chances of the present. I 
brought up cigars, and we settled ourselves facing him, our 
backs to the wind and spray. And so we made the rest of 
the passage, von Bruning cuddled against me and the cabin- 
hatch, alternately shouting a jest at Davies and talking to 
me in a light and charming vein, with just that shade of 
patronage that the disparity in our ages warranted, about 
my time in Germany, places, people, and books I knew, and 
about life, especially young men's life, in England, a 
country he had never visited but hoped to ; I responding as 
well as I could, striving to meet his mood, acquit myself 
like a man, draw zest instead of humiliation from the ironj 



IMPERIAL ESCORT 185 

of om position, but scarcely able to make headway against 
a numbing sense of defeat and incapacity. A queer 
thought was haunting me, too, that such skill and judgment 
as I possessed was slipping from me as we left the land 
and faced again the rigours of this exacting sea. Davies, 
I very well knew, was under exactly the opposite spell — ^a 
spell which even the reproach of the tow-rope could not 
annul. His face, in the glow of the binnacle, was begin- 
ning to wear that same look of contentment and resolve 
that I had seen on it that night we had sailed to Eiel from 
Schlei Fiord. Heaven knows he had more cause for worry 
than I — a casual comrade in an adventure which was 
peculiarly his, which meant everything on earth to him ; 
but there he was, washing away perplexity in the salt wind, 
drawing counsel and confidence from the unfailing source 
of all his inspirations — ^the sea. 

'Looks happy, doesn't he?' said the Oaptain once. I 
grunted that he did, ashamed to find how irritated the 
remark made me. 

< You'll remember what I said,' he added in my ear. 

' Yes,' I said. * But I should like to see her. What is 
she Uke ? ' 

* Dangerous.' I could well believe it. 

The hull of the ' Blitz ' loomed up, and a minute later 
our kedge was splashing overboard and the launch was 
backing alongside. 

* Good night, gentlemen,' said our passenger. ' You're 
safe enough here, and you can run across in ten minutes in 
the morning and pick up your anchor, if it's there still. 
Then you've a fair wind west — to England if you like. If 
you decide to stay a little longer in these parts, and I'm in 
reach, count on me to help you, to sport or anything else.' 

We thanked him, shook hands, and he was gone. 
'He's a thundering good chap, anyhow,' said Davies ; 
and I heartily agreed. 

The narrow vigilant life began again at once. We were 



186 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

*safe enough ' in a sense, but a warp and a twentj-pound 
anchor were poor seoority if the wind backed or increased. 
Plans for ooiitingaQcies had to be made, and deck-watches 
kept till midnight, when the weather seemed to improve and 
stflurs appeared. The glass was rising, so we turned in and 
slept under the very wing, so to speak, of the Imperial 
Ooyemment. 

'Davies,' I said, when we were settled in our bunks, 
*it's only a day's sail to Nordemey, isn't it ? ' 

' Witti a fair wind, less, if we go outside the islands 
direct.' 

< Well, it's settled that we do that to-morrow ? ' 

'I suppose so. We've got to get the anchor firsi 
Goodnight' 



187 



CHAPTER XIX 

THB BX7BI00N 

It was a cold, vaporous dawn, the glass rising and the 
wind fallen to a light air still from the north-east* Our 
creased and sodden sails scarcely answered to it as we 
crept across the oily swell to Langeoog. 'Fogs and 
calms/ Davies prophesied. The ' Blitz ' was astir when we 
passed her, and soon after steamed out to sea. Once over 
the bar, she turned westward and was lost to view in the 
haze. I should be sorry to have to explain how we found 
that tiny anchor-buoy, on the expressionless waste of grey. 
I only know that I hove the lead incessantly while Davies 
conned, till at last he was grabbing over-side with the 
boathook, and there was the buoy on deck. The cable was 
soon following it, and finally the rusty monster himself, 
more loathsome than usual, after his long sojourn in the 
slime, 

'That's all right,' said Davies. 'Now we can go 
anywhere.' 

' Well, it's Norderney, isn't it ? We've settled that.' 

'Yes, I suppose we have. I was wondering whether it 
wouldn't be shortest to go inside Langeoog after all.' 

' purely not,' I urged. ' The tide's ebbing now, and the 
light's bad ; it's new ground, with a ^' watershed " to cross, 
and we're safe to get aground.' 

' All right— outside. Beady about.' We swung lazily 
round and headed for the open sea. I record the fact, but 



188 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

in tnith Davies might have taken me where he liked, for na 
land was visible, only a conple of ghostly booms. 

* It seems a pity to miss over that channel,' said Davies, 
with a sigh ; * just when the ^ Eormoran " can't watch as/ 
(We had not seen her at all this morning.) 

I set myself to the lead again, averse to reopening a 
barren argument. Orimm had done his work for the 
present, I felt certain, and was on his way by the shortest 
road to Nordemey and Memmeri 

We were soon outside and heading west, our boom 
squared away and the island sand-dunes just apparent 
under our lee. Then the breeze died to the merest draught, 
and left us rolling inert in a long swell. Consumed with 
impatience to get on, I saw fatality in this failure of wind, 
after a fortnight of unprofitable meanderings, when we had 
generally had too much of it, and always enough for our 
purpose. I tried to read below, but the vile squirting of 
the centre-board drove me up. 

* Can't we go any faster f ' I burst out once. I felt that 
there ought to be a pyramid of gauzy canvas aloft, spin- 
nakers, flying jibs and what not. 

'I don't go in for speed,' said Davies, shortly. He 
loyally did his best to * shove her ' along, but puffs and 
calms were the rule all day, and it was only by towing in 
the dinghy for two hours in the afternoon that we covered 
the length of Langeoog, and crept before dark to an 
anchorage behind Baltrum, its slug-shaped neighbour on 
the west. Strictly, I believe, we should have kept the 
sea all night ; but I had not the grit to suggest that course, 
and Davies was only too glad of an excuse for threading the 
shoals of the Accumer Ee on a rising tide. The atmosphere 
had been slowly clearing as the day wore on ; but we had 
scarcely been anchored ten minutes before a blanket of 
white fog, rolling in from seaward, swallowed us up. 
Davies was already afield in the dinghy, and I had to guide 
him back with the foghorn, whose music roused hosts of 



THE RUBICON 189 

sea birds from the surrounding flats, and brought them 
wheeling and complaining round us, a weird invisible 
chorus to my mournful solo. 

The fog hung heavy still at daybreak on the 20th, but 
dispersed partially under a catspaw from the south about 
eight o'clock, in time for us to traverse the boomed channel 
behind Baltrum, before the tide left the watershed. 

< We sha'n't get far to-day,' said Davies with philosophy. 
* And this sort of thing may go on for any time. It's a 
regular autumn anticyclone — ^glass thirty point five and 
steady. That gale was the last of a stormy equinox.' 

We took the inside route as a matter of course to-day. 
It was now the shortest to Nordemey harbour, and scarcely 
less intricate than the Wichter Ee, which appeared to be 
almost totally blocked by banks, and is, in fact, the most 
impassable of all these outlets to the North Sea. But, as 
I say, this sort of navigation, always puzzhng to me, was 
utterly bewildering in hazy weather. Any attempt at 
orientation made me giddy. So I slaved at the lead, vary- 
ing my labour with a fierce bout of kedge-work when we 
grounded somewhere. I had two rests before two o'clock, 
one of an hour, when we ran into a patch of windless fog, 
another of a few moments when Davies said, * There's Nor- 
demey I ' and I saw, surmounting a long slope of weedy 
sand, still wet with the receding sea, a cluster of sandhills 
exactly like a hundred others I had seen of late, but fraught 
with a new and unique interest. 

The usual formula, ' What have you got now ? ' checked 
my reverie, and ' Helm's a-lee,' ended it for the time. We 
tacked on (for the wind had headed us) in very shoal water. 

Suddenly Davies said : ' Is that a boat ahead ? ' 

' Do you mean that galliot ? ' I asked. I could plainly 
distinguish one of those familiar craft about half a mile 
ftway, just within the limit of vision. 

' The " Kormoran," do you think ? ' I added. Davies 
said nothing, but grew inatj^ntive to his work. * Barely 



190 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

four/ from me passed omiotioed and we tonehed onoe, bat 
swong off under some play of the onrrent. Then oame 
abruptly, * Stand by the anchor. Let go,' and we bronght 
up in mid-stream of the narrow creek we were following. 
I triced up the main-tack, and stowed the head-sails un- 
aided. When I had done Davies was still gazing to wind- 
ward through his binoculars, and, to my astonishm^it, I 
noticed that his hands were trembling violently. I had 
never seen this happen before, even at moments when a 
false turn of the wrist meant death on a surf -battered bank. 

' What is it ? ' I asked ; 'are you cold ? ' 

' That little boat,' he said. I gazed to windward, too, 
and now saw a scrap of white in the distance, in sharp 
relief. 

< Small standing lug and jib ; it's her, right enough*' 
said Davies to himself, in a sort of nervous stammer 

'Who? What?' 

' « Medusa's " dinghy.' 

He handed, or rather pushed, me the glasses, still 
gazing. 

* Dollmann ? ' I excMmed. 

' No, it's hers — the one she always sails. She's come to 
meet m — , us.' 

Through the glasses the white scrap became a graceful 
little sail, squared away for the light following breeze. An 
angle of the creek hid the hull, then it glided into view* 
Some one was sitting aft steering, man or woman I could 
not say, for the sail hid most of the figure. For full two 
minutes — two long, pr^nant minutes — ^we watched it in 
silence. The damp air was fogging the lenses, but I kept 
them to my eyes ; for I did not want to look at Davies. 
At last I heard him draw a deep breath, straighten himself 
up, and give one of his characteristic 'h'ms.' Then he 
turned briskly aft, cast off our dinghy's painter, and pulled 
her up alongside. 

' You come, too,' he said, jumping in, and fixing the 



THE RUBICON 191 

rowlocks. (ni9 hands were steady again.) I laug;hed, and 
shoved the dinghy off. 

' I'd rather you did/ he said defiantly. 

* I'd rather stay. 1*11 tidy up, and put the kettle on.* 
Davies had taken a half -stroke, but paused. 

* She oughtn't to come aboard/ he said. 

'She might like to/ I suggested. 'Chilly day, long 
way from home, common courtesy * 

' Carruthers,' said Davies, 'if she comes aboard, please 
rranember that she's outside this business. There are no 
dues to be got from her.' 

A little lecture which would have nettled me more if I 
had not been exultantly telling myself that, once and for 
all, for good or ill, the Rubicon was passed. 

' It's your affair this time,' I said ; ' run it as you please.' 

He sculled away with vigorous strokes. ' Just as he is,' 
I thought to myself : bare head, beaded with fog-dew, 
ancient oilskin coat (only one button) ; grey je;rsey ; grey 
woollen trousers (like a deep-sea fisherman's) stuffed into 
long boots. A vision of his antit3rpe, the Cowes Philanderer, 
crossed me for a second. As to his face — well, I could only 
judge by it, and marvel, that he was gripping his dilemma 
by either horn, as firmly as he gripped his sculls. 

I watched the two boats converging. They would have 
met in the natural course about three hundred yards away, 
but a hitch occurred. First, the^ sailboat checked and 
slewed; 'aground,' I concluded. The rowboat leapt for- 
ward still ; then checked too. From both a great splashing 
of sculls floated across the still air, then silence. The 
summit of the watershed, a physical Rubicon, prosaic and 
slimy, had still to be crossed, it seemed. But it could be 
evaded. Both boats headed for the northern side of the 
creek : two figures were out on the brink, hauling on two 
painters. Then Davies was striding over the sand, and a 
girl — ^I could see her now — was coming to meet him. And 
then I thought it was time to go below and tidy up* 



192 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

Nothing on earth oonld have made the ' Duldbella's * 
saloon a worthy reception-room for a lady. I could only 
use hurried efforts to make it look its best by plying a 
bunch of cotton-waste and a floor-brush ; by pitching into 
racks and lockers the litter of pipes, charts, oddments of 
apparel, and so on, that had a way of collecting afresh, 
however recently we had tidied up; by neatly arranging 
our demoralised library, and by lighting the stove and 
veiling the table under a clean white cloth. 

I suppose about twenty minutes had eliqised, and I was 
scrubbing fruitlessly at the smoky patch on the ceiling, 
when I heard the sound of oars and voices outside. I 
threw the cotton- waste into the fo'c'sle, made an onslaught 
on my hands, and then mounted the companion ladder. 
Our own dinghy was just rounding up alongside, Davies 
sculling in the bows, facing him in the stern a young girl 
in a grey tam-o'-shanter, loose waterproof jacket and dark 
serge skirt, the latter, to be frigidly accurate, disclosing a 
pair of workmanlike rubber boots, which, mutatis mutandis, 
were very like those Davies was wearing. Her hair, like 
his, was spangled with moisture, and her rose-brown skin 
struck a note of delicious colour against the sullen Stygian 
background. 

< There he is,' said Davies. Never did his ' meiner 
Freund, Oarruthers,' sound so pleasantly in my ears ; never 
so discordantly the * Fraulein Dollmann ' that followed it. 
Every syllable of the four was a lie. Two honest English 
eyes were looking up into mine ; an honest English hand 
— ^is this insular nonsense ? Perhaps so, but I stick to i^ 
a brown, firm hand — ^no, not so very small, my sentimental 
reader — ^was clasping mine. Of course I had skong reasons, 
apart from the racial instinct, for thinking her to be English, 
but I believe that if I had had none at all I should at any 
rate have congratulated Germany on a clever bit of 
plagiarism. By her voice, when i^e spoke, I knew that 
she must have talked Qerman habitually from childhood; 



THE RUBICON 198 

diction and accent were faultless, at least to my English 
ear ; but the native constitutional ring was wanting. 

She came on board. There was a hollow discussion 
first about time and weather, but it ended as we all in our 
hearts wished it to end. None of us uttered our real 
scruples. Mine, indeed, were too new and rudimentary to 
be worth uttering, so I said common-sense things about tea 
and warmth ; but I began to think about my compact with 
Davies. 

* Just for a few minutes, then,' she said. 

I held out my hand and swung her up. She^zed 
round the deck and rigging with profound interest — ^a 
breathless, hungry interest— touching to see. 

* You've seen her before, haven't you ? ' I said. 

* I have not been on board before,' she answered. 

This struck me in passing as odd ; but then I had only 
too few details from Davies about his days at Norderney 
in September. 

'Of course; that is what puzzled me,' she exclaimed 
suddenly, pointing to the mizzen. 'I knew there was 
something different.' 

Davies had belayed the painter and now had to explain 
the origin of the mizzen. This was a cumbrous process, and 
his hearer's attention soon wandered from the subject and 
became centred in him — his was already more than half 
in her — and the result was a golden opportunity for the 
discerning onlooker. It was very brief, but I made the 
most of it ; buried deep a few regrets, did a little heartfelt 
penance, told myself I had been a cynical fool not to have 
foreseen this, and faced the new situation with a sinking 
heart ; I am not ashamed to admit that, for I was fond of 
Davies and I was keen about the quest. 

She had never been a guilty agent in that attempt on 
Davies. Had she been an unconscious tool or only an 
unwilling one ? If the latter, did she know the secret we 
were seeking? In the last degree unlikely, I decided. 

o 



y 
^y 



194 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

Bai» true to the compact, whose importance I now fally 
appreciated, I flung aside my diplomatic weapons, recoiling, 
as strongly, or nearly as strongly, let us say, from any effort 
direct or indirect to gain information from such a source. 
It was not our fault if by her own conversation and 
behayiour she gave us some idea of how matters stood. 
Davies already knew more than I did. 

We spent a few minutes on deck while she asked eager 
questions about our build and gear and seaworthiness, with 
a quaint mixture of professional acumen and personal 
curiosity. 

'How did you manage alone that day?* she asked 
Davies suddenly. 

' Oh, it was quite safe,' was the reply. ' But it's much 
better to have a friend.' 

She looked at me; and — ^well, I would have died for 
Davies there and then. 

'Father said you would be safe,' she remarked with 
decision — a slight excess of decision, I thought. And at 
that turned to some rope or block and pursued her 
questioning. She found the compass impressive and the 
trappings of that hateful centre-board had a peculiar 
fascination for her. Was this the way we did it in 
England ? was her constant query. 

Yet, in spite of a superficial freedom, we were all shy 
and constrained. The descent below was a welcome diver- 
sion, for we should have been less than human if we had 
not extracted some spontaneous fun from the humours of 
the saloon. I went down first to see about the tea, leaving 
them struggling for mutual comprehension over the theory 
of an English lifeboat. They soon followed, and I can see 
her now stooping in at the doorway, treading delicately, like 
a kitten, past the obstructive centre-board to a place on the 
starboard sofa, then taking in her surroundings with a 
timid rapture that broke into delight at all the primitive 
arrangements and dingy amenities of our den. S^e 



THE RUBICON 198 

explored the oavemons reoesses of the Bippingill, fingered 
the duok-gons and the miscellany in the racks, and peeped 
into the fo'c.'sle with dainty awe. Everything was a source 
of merriment, from our cramped attitudes to the painful 
deficiency of spoons and the 'yachtiness ' (there is no other 
word to describe it) of the bread, which had been bought 
at Bensersiel and had suffered from incarceration and the 
climate. This fact came out, and led to some questions, 
while we waited for the water to boil, about the gale and 
our visit there. The topic, a pregnant one for us, appeared 
to have no special significance to her. At the mention of 
von Bruning she showed no emotion of any sort ; on the 
contrary, she went out of her way, from an innocent motive 
that anyone could have guessed, to show that she could talk 
about him with dispassionate detachment. 

* He came to see us when you were here last, didn't 
he ? ' she said to Davies. ' He often comes. He goes 
with father to Memmert sometimes. You know about 
Memmert? They are diving for money out of an old 
wreck " 

Yes, we had heard about it. 

'Of course you have. Father is a director of the 
company, and Commander von Bruning takes great interest 
in it. They took me down in the diving-bell once.' 

I murmured, * Indeed ! ' and Davies sawed laboriously 
at the bread. She must have misconstrued our sheepish 
silence, for she stopped and drew herself up with just a 
touch of momentary hautmTf utterly lost on Davies. I 
could have laughed aloud at this transient little comedy of 
errors. 

* Did you see any gold ? ' said Davies at last, with husky 
solemnity. Something had to be said or we should defeat 
our own end ; but I let him say it. He had not my faith 
in Memmert. 

* No, only mud and timber — oh, I forgot ' 

'You mustn't betray the company's secrets,' I said. 

o2 



196 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

laughing ; ' Oommander Ton Broning wouldn't tell us a 
word about the gold.' (' There's self-denial ! ' I said to 
myself.) 

'Oh, I don*t think it matters much,' she answered, 
laughing too. * You are only visitors.' 

'That's all,' I remarked demurely. 'Just passing 
travellers.' 

'You will stop at Kordemeyt' she said, with naive 
anxiety* ' Herr Davies said ' 

I looked to Davies ; it was his afiGur. Fair and square 
oame his answer, in blunt dog-Qerman : 

' Yes, of course we shalL I should like to see your 
father again.' 

Up to this moment I had been doubtful of his final 
decision; for ever sincj our explanation at Bensersiel I 
had had the feeling that I was holding his nose to a very 
cruel grindstone. This straight word, clear and direct 
beyond anything I had hoped for, brought me to my senses 
and showed me that his mind had been working tax in 
advance of mine ; and more, shaping a double purpose that 
I had never dreamt of. 

'My father ' said Fr&ulein Dollmann; 'yes, I am 

sure he will be very glad to see you.' 

There was no conviction in her tone, and her eyes were 
distant and troubled. 

' He's not at home now, is he ? ' I asked. 

' How did you know ? ' (a little maidenly confusion). 
•Oh, Commander von Bruning ' 

I might have added that it had been clear as daylight 
all along that this visit was in the nature of an escapade of 
which her father might not approve. I tried to say 'I 
won't tell,' without words, and may have succeeded. 

'I told Mr. Davies when we first met,' she went on. 
' I expect him back very soon — to-morrow in fact ; he wrote 
from Amsterdam. He left me at Hamburg and has been 
away since. Of course he wiU not know your yacht is back 



THE RUBICON 197 

ftgun* I think he expected Mr. Davies wcmld stay in the 
Baltic, as the season was so late. But — ^but I am sure he 
will be glad to see you.' 

* Is the '' Medusa " in harbour 7 ' said Davies. 

* Yes ; but we are not living on her now. We are ai 
our villa in the Schwannallde — my stepmother ^d I 
that is.' 

She added some details, and Davies gravely pencilled 
down the address on a leaf of the log-book ; a formality 
which somehow seemed to regularise the present position. 

* We shall be at Nordemey to-morrow/ he said. 
Meanwhile the kettle was boiling merrily and I made 

the tea — cocoa, I should say, for the menu was changed in 
deference to our visitor's tastes. ' This is fun \ * she said, 
and by common consent we abandoned ourselves, three 
youthful hungry mariners, to the enjoyment of this im- 
promptu picnic. Such a chance might never occur again — 
earpamus diem. 

But the banquet was never celebrated. As at Bel- 
shazzar's feast, there was a writing on the wall : no super- 
natural inscription, but just a printed name ; an English 
surname with title and initials, in cheap gilt lettering on 
the back of an old book ; a silent, sneering witness of our 
snug party. The catastrophe came and passed so suddenly 
that at the time I had scarcely even an inkling of what 
caused it ; but I know now tibAt this is how it happened. 
Our visitor was sitting at the forward end of the starboard 
S0&, close to the bulkhead. Davies and I were opposite 
her. Across the bulkhead, on a level with our heads, 
ran the bookshelf, whose contents, remember, I had care* 
fully straightened oxdy half an hour ago, little dreaming 
of the consequence. Some trifle, probably the logbook 
which Davies had reached down from the shelf, called her 
attention to the rest of our library. While busied with the 
cocoa I heard her spelling out some titles, fingering leaves, 
and twitting Davies with the little care he took of his 



198 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

books. Suddenly there was a silenoe which made me look 
up, to see a startling and pitiful change in her. She was 
staring at Davies with wide eyes and parted lips, a burning 
flush nK>unting to her forehead, and such an expression on 
her face as a sleep-walker might wear, who wakes in fear 
he knows not where. 

Half her mind was far away, labouring to construe 
some hideous dream of the past ; half was in the present, 
cringing before some sickening reality. She remained so 
for perhaps ten seconds, and then — ^plucky girl that she 
was — she mastered herself, looked deliberately round and 
up with a circular glance strangely in the manner of Davies 
himself, and spoke. How late it was, she must be going — 
her boat was not safe. At the same time she rose to go, 
or rather slid herself along the sofa, for rising was impos- 
sible. We sat like mannerless louts, in blank amazement. 
Davies at the outset had said, 'What's the matter?' in 
plain English, and then relapsed into stupefaction. I 
recovered myself the first, and protested in some awkward 
fashion about the cocoa, the time, the absence of fog. In 
trying to answer, her self-possession broke down, poor 
child, and her retreat became a blind flight, Uke that of a 
wounded animal, while every sordid circumstance seemed 
to accentuate her panic. 

She tilted the comer of the table in leaving the sofa and 
spilt cocoa over her skirt ; she knocked her head with pain- 
ful force against the sharp lintel of the doorway, and 
stumbled on the steps of the ladder. I was close behind, 
but when I reached the deck she was already on the counter 
hauling up the dinghy. She had even jumped in and laid 
hands on the sculls before any check came in her precipitate 
movements. Now there occurred to her the patent fact 
that the dinghy was ours, and that someone must accompany 
her to bring it back. 

* Davies will row you over,' I said. 

* Oh no, thank you,' she stammered. * If you will be so 



THE BUBIOON 100 

kind, Herr Carrnthers. It is your turn. No, I meaiii I 
y/mnt * 

' Oo on,' said Davies to me in English. 

I stepped into the dinghy and motioned to take the 
Bcnlls from her. She seemed not to see me, and pushed off 
while Davies handed down her jacket which she had left in 
the cabin. Neither of us tried to better the situation by 
conventional apologies. It was left to her, at the last 
moment, to make a show of excusing herself, an attempt so 
brave and yet so wretchedly lame that I tingled all over 
with hot shame. She only made matters worse, and Davies 
interrupted her. 

' Auf Wiedersehen,' he said simply. 

She shook her head, did not even offer her hand, and 
pulled away ; Davies turned sharp round and went below. 

There was now no muddy Bubicon to obstruct us, for 
the tide had risen a good deal, and the sands were covering. 
I offered again to take the sculls, but she took no notice 
and rowed on, so that I was a silent passenger on the stem 
seat till we reached her boat, a spruce little yacht's gig, 
built to the native model, with a spoon-bow and tiny lee- 
boards. It was already afloat, but riding quite safely to a 
rope and a little grapnel which she proceeded to haul in. 

* It was quite safe after all, you see,' I said. 

' Yes, but I could not stay. Herr Carruthers, I want to 
say something to you.' (I knew it was coming; von 
Briining's warning over again.) 'I made a mistake just 
now ; it is no use your calling on us to-morrow.' 

' Why not ? ' 

' You will not see my father.' 

* 1 thought you said he was coming back ? ' 

* Yes, by the morning steamer ; but he will be very busy.' 

* We can wait. We have several days to spare, and we 
have to call for letters anyhow>' 

' You must not delay on our account. The weather is 
very fine at last. It would be a pity to lose a chance of a 
smooth voyage to England. The season ' 



900 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



'We hftve no fixed pbuu. DaTies iruits to get eoine 
shooting.' 

<Mj father will be mnoh oocapied.* 

'We can see you/ 

I insisted on being obtnse, for though this fencing mth 
an nnstning girl was hateful work, the quest was at stake. 
We were going to Nordemey, come what might, and sooner 
or later we must see Dollmann. It was no use promising 
not to. I had given no pledge to TonBruning,and I would 
give none to her. The onlj altemaiiye was to violate the 
compact (which the present fiasco had surely weakened), 
speak out and try and make an ally of her. Against her 
own father ? I shrank from the responsibility and counted 
the cost of failure — certain failure, to judge by her conduct. 
She began to hoist her lug-sail in a dazed, shiftless fashion, 
while our two boats drifted slowly to leeward. 

' Father might not like it,' she said, so low and from 
such tremulous lips that I scarcely caught the words. ' He 
does not like foreigners much. I am afraid • • • he did 
not want to see Herr Davies again.' 

•But I thought • 

'It was wrong of me to come on board — I suddenly 
remembered ; but I could not toll Herr Davies.' 

' I see,' I answered. ' I will toll him.' 

' Yes, ihat he must not come near us.' 

'He will understand. I know he will be very sorry, 
but,' I added, firmly, ' you can trust him implicitly to do 
the right thing.' And how I prayed that this would 
content her I Thank heaven, it did. 

' Yes,' she said, < I am afraid I did not say good-bye to 
him. You will do so ? ' She gave me her hand. 

'One thing more,' I added, holding it, 'nothing had 
better be said about this meeting ? ' 

' No, no, nothing. It must never be known.' 

I let go the gig's gunwale and watched her tighten her 
sheet and make a tack or two to windward. Then I rowed 
back to the ' Dulcibella ' as hard as I could. 



101 



CHAPTER XX 

THB LITTLB DBAS BOOK 

I FOUND Davies at the oabin-table, surrounded with a litter 
of books. The shelf was empty, and its contents were 
tossed about among the eups and on the floor. We both 
spoke together. 

' Well, what was it ? ' 

* Well, what did she say? ' 

I gave way, and told my story briefly. He listened in 
Bilenoe, drumming on the table with a book which he held. 

'It's not good-bye,' he said. 'But I don't wonder; 
look here ! ' and he held out to me a small volume, whose 
appearance was quite familiar to me, if its contents were 
less so. As I noted in an early chapter, Davies's library, 
excluding tide-tables, 'pilots,' etc., was limited to two 
classes of books, those on naval warfare, and those on his 
own hobby, cruising in small yachts. He had six or seven 
of the latter, including Knight's 'Falcon in the Baltic,' 
Gowper's 'Sailing Tours,' Macmullen's 'Down Channel,' 
and other less known stories of adventurous travel. I had 
scarcely done more than look into some of them at off- 
moments, for our life had left no leisure for reading. This 
particular volume was — no, I had better not describe it too 
fully ; but I will say that it was old and unpretentious, 
bound in cheap cloth of a rather antiquated style, with a 
title which showed it to be a guide for yachtsmen to a 
certain British estuary. A white label partly scratched 



a08 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

away bore the legend < Sd.' I had glanced at it onoe oe 
twioe with no special interest. 

'Well ? ' I said, taming oyer some yellow pages. 

' Dollmann t ' cried Davies. ' Dolhnann wrote it.* 

I turned to the title-page, and read : ' By Lieut. X ^ 

B.N.' The name itself conveyed nothing to me, bat I 
began to understand. 

Davies went on : ' The name's on the back too— and I'm 
certain it's the last she looked at.' 

* But how do you know 9 ' 

* And there's the man himself. Ass that I am not to 
have seen it before ! Look at the frontispiece.' 

It was a sorry piece of illustration of the old-fashioned 
sort, lacking definition and finish, but efiective notwith- 
standing; for it was evidently the reproduction, though 
a cheap and imperfect process, of a photograph. It repre- 
sented a small yacht at anchor below some woods, with the 
owner standing on deck in his shirt-sleeves; a well-knit, 
powerful man, young, of middle height, clean-shaved. 
There appeared to be nothing remarkable about the face ; 
the portrait being on too small a scale, and the expression, 
such as it was, being of the fixed * photographic ' character. 

' How do you know him ? You said he was fifty, with 
a greyish beard.' 

< By the shape of his head ; that hasn't changed. Look 
how it widens at the top, and then flattens — sort of wedge- 
shaped — ^with a high, steep forehead ; you'd hardly notice 
it in that ' (the points were not very noticeable, but I saw 
what Davies meant). * The height and figure are right too ; 
and the dates are about right. Look at the bottom.' 

Underneath the picture was the name of a yacht and a 
date. The publisher's date on the title-page was the same. 

' Sixteen years ago,' said Davies. ' He looks thirty odd 
in that, doesn't he ? And fifty now.' 

* Let's work the thing out. Sixteen years ago he was 
still an Englishman; an officer in Her Majesty's Navy. 



THE LITTLE DBAB BOOK 208 

Now he's a German. At some time between this and then, 
I suppose, he came to grief —disgnoe, flight, exile. When 
did it happen 9 ' 

^ They've been here three years ; von Briimng said so.' 

'It was long before that. She has talked German from 
a child. What's her age, do you think — nineteen to 
twenty ? ' 

' About thai' 

' Say she was four when this book was published. The 
crash must have come not long after.' 

' And they've been hiding in Germany since.* 

' Is this a well-known book ? ' 

* 1 never saw another copy ; picked this up on a second- 
hand bookstall for threepence.' 

' She looked at it, you say ? ' 
< Tes, I'm certain of it.' 
' Was she never on board you in September ? ' 
' No ; I asked them both, but DoUmann made excuses.* 
' But he — he came on board ? You told me so.' 
' Once ; he asked himself to breakfast on the first day. 
By Jove ! yes ; you mean he saw the book 7 ' 
' It explains a good deal.' 
' It explains everything.' 
We feu into deep reflection for a minute or two. 

* Do you really mean everything ? ' I said. * In that case 
let's sail straight away and forget the whole afiGEur. He's 
only some poor devil with a past, whose secret you stumbled 
on, and, hsJf mad with fear, he tried to silence you. But 
you don't want revenge, so it's no business of ours. We 
can ruin him if we like ; but is it worth it ? ' 

' You don't mean a word you're saying,' said Davies, 
* though I know why you say it; and many thanks, old chap. 
I didn't mean << everything." He's plotting With Germans, 
or why did Grimm spy on us, and von Briimng cross-examine 
us ? We've got to find out what he's at, as well as who 
he is. And as to her — ^what do you think of her now ? ' 



SM THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

I made my amende heartily. ' Imiooent and ignoianV 
was my verdioi ' Ignorant, that is, of her father's treason- 
ahle machinations; hut aware, dearly, that they were 
English refugees with a past to hide.' I saiil other things, 
but they do not matter. * Only,' I oonolnded, ' it makes 
the dilemma infinitely worse.' 

* There's no dilemma at all,' said Davies. * Ton said at 
Bensersiel that we couldn't hurt him without hurting her. 
Well, all I can say is, we've got to. The time to cut and 
run, if ever, was when we sighted her dinghy. I had a 
baddish minute then.' 

* She's given us a due or two after alL' 

<It wasn't our fault. To refuse to have her on board 
would have been to give our show away ; and the very fact 
that she's given us dues decides the matter. She mustn't 
suffer for ii* 

< What will she dot' 

' Stick to her father, I suppose.' 

* And what shall we do ? ' 

* I don't know yet ; how can I know f It d^nds * 

said Davies slowly. ' But the point is that we have two 
objects, equally important — yes, equally, by Jove I — to 
scotch him and save her.' 

There was a pause. 

'That's rather a large order,' I observed. <Do you 
realise that at this very moment we have probably gained 
the first object? If we went home now, walked into the 
Admiralty and laid our facts before them, what would b6 
the result?' 

' The Admiralty ! ' said Davies, with ine&ble scorn. 

' Well, Scotland Tard too, then, Both of them want 
our man, I dare say. It would be strange if between 
them they couldn't dislodge him and incidentally either 
discover what's going on here or draw such attention to 
this bit of coast as to make further secrecy impossible.' 

* It's out of the question to let her betray her father. 



THE LITTLE DBAB BOOK 205 

and tibten rem away t Besides, we don't know enough, and 
they mightn't beheve a8« It's a cowardly course, however 
you look at it.' 

' Oh t that settles it,' I answered hastily. ' Now I wiant 
to go back over the £acts. When did you first see her ? ' 

' That first morning.' 

* She wasn't in the saloon the night before ? ' 

* No ; and he didn't mention her.' 

< Tou would have gone away next morning if he hadn't 
called?' 

* Yes, I told you so.' 

' He allowed her to persuade you to make that voyage 
with them ? ' 
' I suppose so.' 

* But he sent her below when the pilotage was going on? ' 

* Of course.' 

' She said just now, '^ Father said you would be safe." 
What had you been saying to her ? ' 

* It was when I met her on the sand. (By the way, it 
wasn't a chance meeting : she had been making inquiries 
and heard about us from a skipper who had seen the yacht 
near Wangeroog, and she had b^en down this way before.) 
She asked at once about that day, and began apologising, 
rather awkwardly, you know, for their rudeness in not 
having waited for me at Cuxhaven. Her father found he 
must get on to Hamburg at once.' 

^ But you didn't go to Cuxhaven ; you told her that? 
What exactly did you tell her ? This is important.' 

' I was in a fearful fix, not knowing what he had told 
her. So I said something vague, and then she asked the 
very question von Briining did, ** Wasn't there a schreok' 
Uch sea roimd the Scharhorn ? " ' 

' She didn't know you took the short cuty then ?' 

* No, he hadn't dared to tell her.' 
' Sh/knew that they took it ? ' 

'Yes. He couldn't possibly have hidden that. She 



SMM THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

would have known by the look of the sea from the port- 
holes, the shorter time, eto.' 

' Bat when the ** Medusa " hoye to and he shouted to 
joa to follow him— didn't she understand what was hap- 
pening f * 

' No, evidently not Mind you, she couldn't possibly 
have heard what we said, in that weather, from below. 
I couldn't cross-question her, but it was clear enough what 
she thought ; namely, that he had hoye to for exactly the 
opposite reason, to say he was taking the short cut, and 
that I wasn't to attempt to follow him.' 

' That's why she lidd stress on waiting for you at Oux- 
hayen ? ' 

' Of course ; mine would have been the longer passage.' 

* She had no notion of foul play? ' 

'None — that I could see. After all, there I was, alive 
and welL' 

< But she was remorseful for having induced you to sail 
at all thaMay, and for not having waited to see you arrived 
safely?' 

< That's about ii* 

' Now what did you say about Ouxhaven f ' 

' Nothing. I let her understand that I went there, and, 
not finding them, went on to the Baltic by the Eider river, 
having changed my mind about the ship canal/ 

'Now, what about her voyage back from Hamburg? 
Was she alone?' 

' No. The stepmother joined her.' 

'Did she say she had inquired about you at Bruns- 
btittel?' 

' No ; I suppose she didn't like to. And there was no 
need, because my taking the Eider explained it.' 

I reflected. ' You're sure she hadn't a notion that you 
took the short cut ? ' 

* Quite sure ; but she may guess it now. She guessed 
foul play by seeing that book.' 



THE LITTLE DRAB BOOK 207 

' Of ooorse she did ; but I was thinking of something 
else. There are two stories afloat now — yours to von 
Briining, the true one, that you followed the '^ Medusa " to 
the short cut ; and Dollmann's to her, that you went round 
the Scharhom. That's evidently his version of the affidr — 
the version he would have given if you had been drowned 
and inquiries were ever made ; the version he would have 
sworn his crew to if they discovered the truth.' 

^ But he must drop that yam when he knows I'm alive 
and back again.' 

^ Yes ; but meanwhile, supposing von Briining sees him 
hefcre he knows you're back again, and wants to find out 
the truth about that incident. If I were von Briining I 
should say, ''By the way, what's become of that young 
Englishman you decoyed away to the Baltic ? " Dollmann 
would give his version, and von Briining, having heard 
ours, would know he was lying and had tried to drown 
you.* 

'Does it matter? He must know already that DoU- 
mann's a scoundrel' 

' So we've been supposing ; but we may be wrong. 
We're still in the dark as to DoUmann's position towards 
these Qermans. They may not even know he's English, 
or they may know that and not know his real name and 
past What efifect your story will have on their relations 
with him we can't forecast. But I'm clear about one 
thing, that it's our paramount interest to maintain the 
Btatus quo as long as we can, to minimise the danger you 
ran that day and act as witnesses in his defence. We 
can't do that if his story and yours don't tally. The dis- 
crepancy will not only damn him (that may be immaterial), 
but it will throw doubt on us.' 

•Why?' 

'Because if the short cut was so dangerous that he 
dared not own to having led you to it, it was dangerous 
enough to make you suspect foul play ; the very supposition 



206 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

we want to avoicL We want to be thought mere travellera^ 
with no soores to wipe out and no secrets to pry after.* 

* Well, what do you propose ? * 

' Hitherto I believe we stand fairly welL Let's assume 
we hoodwinked von Briining at Bensersiel, and base our 
policy on that assumption. It follows that we must show 
DoUmann at the earliest possible moment that you have 
oome back, and give him time to revise his tactics before he 
commits himself. Now ' 

' But 8he*ll tell him we're back,' interrupted Davies. 

'I don't think so. We've just agreed to keep thia 
afternoon's episode a secret She expects never to see us 
again.' 

* Now, he comes to-morrow by the morning boat, she 
said. What did that mean ? Boat from where ? ' 

* I know. From Norddeich on the mainland opposite. 
There's a railway there from Norden, and a steam ferry 
crosses to the island.' 

* At what time ? • 

< Tour Bradshaw will tell us — here it is : '' Winter Ser- 
vice, 8.80 A.M., due at 9.6.' " 

* Let's get away at once.' 

We had a tussle with the tide at first, but once over the 
watershed the channel improved, and the haze lightened 
gradually. A lighthouse appeared among the sand-dunes 
on the island shore, and before darkness fell we dimly saw 
the spires and roofs of a town, and two long black piers 
stretching out southwards. We were scarcely a mile away 
when we lost our wind altogether, and had to anchor. 
Determined to reach our destination that night we waited 
till the ebb stream made, and then towed the yacht with 
the dinghy. In the course of this a fog dropped on us 
suddenly, just as it had yesterday. I was towing at the 
time, and, of course, stopped short ; but Davies shouted to 
me from the tiller to go on, that he could manage with 
the lead and compass. And the end of it was that, at 



THE LITTLE DBAB BOOK 209 

about nine o'clock we anchored safely in the five-fathom 
roadstead, close to the eastern pier, as a short recon- 
naissance proved to us. It had been a little masterpiece 
of adroit seamanship. 

There was utter stillness till our chain rattled down, 
when a muffled shout came from the direction of the pier, 
and soon we heard a boat groping out to us. It was a 
polite but sleepy port-officer, who asked in a perfunctory 
way for our particulars, and when he heard them, remem- 
bered the ' Dulcibella's ' previous visit. 

' Where are you bound to ? ' he asked. 

' England— sooner or later/ said Davies. 

The man laughed derisively. ' Not this year/ he said ; 
' there will be fogs for another week ; it is always so, and 
then storms. Better leave your yawl here. Dues will be 
only sixpence a month for you.' 

' I'll think about it/ said Davies. * Good night.' 

The man vanished like a ghost in the thick night 

* Is the post-office open ? ' I called after him. 

'No ; eight to-morrow,' came back out of the fog. 

We were too excited to sup in comfort, or sleep in 
peace, or to do anything but plan and speculate. Never 
till this night had we talked with absolute mutual confi- 
dence, for Davies broke down the last barriers of reserve 
and let me see his whole mind. He loved this girl and he 
loved his country, two simple passions which for the time 
absorbed his whole moral capacity. There was no room 
left for casuistry. To weigh one passion against the other, 
with the discordant voices of honour and expedience din- 
ning in his ears, had too long involved him in fruitless 
torture. Both were right : neither could be surrendered. 
If the facts showed them irreconcilable, tant pis pour le$ 
fadts. A way must be found to satisfy both or neither. 

I should have been a spiritless dog if I had not risen to 
his mood. But in truth his cutting of the knot was at this 
juncture exactly what appealed to me. I, too, was tired of 

p 



210 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

vioftiloiis oasoistry, and th6 iasdnation of our enterprise^ 
intensified by the discovery of that afternoon, had never 
been so strong in me. Not to be insinoere, I cannot pre* 
tend that I viewed the situation with his single mind. My 
philosophy when I left London was of a very worldly sorl^ 
and no one can change his temperament in three weeks. I 
plainly said as much to Davies, and indeed took perverse 
satisfaction in stating with brutal emphasis some socnal 
troths which bore on this attachment of his to the daughter 
of an outlaw. Troths I call them, but I uttered them more 
by rote than by conviction, and he heard them unmoved, 
ijid meanwhile I snatched recklessly at his own solution. 
If it imparted into our adventure a strain of crazy chivalry 
more suited to knights-errant of the middle ages than to 
sober modem youths — ^well, thank heaven, I was not too 
sober, and still young enough to snatch at that fancy with 
an ardour of imagination if not of character ; perhaps, too, 
of character, for GMLahads are not so common but that 
ordinary folk must needs draw courage from their example 
and put something of a blind trust in their tenfold strength. 

To reduce a romantic ideal to a working plan is a very 
difficult thing. 

* We shall have to argue backwards,' I said. * What is 
to be the final stage? Because that must govern the 
others.' There was only one answer — to get Dollmann, 
secrets and all, daughter and all, away from Germany 
altogether. So only could we satisfy the double aim we 
had set before us. What a joy it is, when beset with 
doubts, to find a bed-rock necessity, however unattainable t 
We fastened on this one and reasoned back from ii The 
first lesson was that, however many and strong were the 
enemies we had to contend with, our sole overt foe must be 
Dollmann. The issue of the struggle must be known 
only to ourselves and him. If we won, and found out 
* what he was at/ we must at all costs conceal our succeus 
trom bis German friends, and detach him from them before 



J 



THE LITTLE DBAB BOOK 211 

he was compromised. (Ton will r^nark that to blithely 
accept this limitation showed a very sanguine spirit in ns.) 
The next question, how to find out what he was at, was a 
deal more thorny. If it had not been for the discovery of 
Dollmann's identity, we should have found it as hard a nut 
to crack as ever. But this discovery was illuminating. It 
threw into relief two methods of action which hitherto we 
had been hazily seeking to combine, seesawing between one 
and the other, each of us influenced at different times by 
different motives. One was to rely on independent re- 
search, the other to extort the secret from DoUmann 
direct, by craft or threats. The moral of to-day was to 
abandon the first and embrace the second. 

The prospects of independent research were not a whit 
better than before. There were only two theories in the 
field, the channel theory and the Memmert theory. The 
former languished for lack of corroboration ; the latter 
also appeared to be weakened. To Fraulein Dollmann the 
wreck- works were evidently what they purported to be, and 
nothing more. This fact in itself was unimportant, for it 
was clear as crystal that she was no party to her father's 
treacherous intrigues, if he was engaged in such. But if 
Memmert was his sphere for them^ it was disconcerting to 
find her so familiar with that sphere, lightly talking of a 
descent in a diving-bell, hinting, too, that the mystery as 
to results was only for local consumption. Nevertheless, 
the charm of Memmert as the place we had traced Grimm 
to, and as the only tangible clue we had obtained, was still 
very great. The really cogent objection was the insuperable 
difficulty, known and watched as we were, of learning its 
significance. If there was anything important to see tiiere 
we should never be allowed to see it, while by trying and 
failing we risked everything. It was on this point that the 
last of all misunderstandings between me and Davies was 
dissipated. At Bensersiel he had been influenced more 
than he owned by my arguments about Memmert ; but, at 

ta 



212 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

that time (as I fainted) he ma biassed bya radical prejudioe. 
The ohannel theory had become a sort of religion mth him, 
promising double salvation — not only avoidance of the 
DoUmanns, but success in the quest by methods in which 
he was past master. . To have to desert it and resort to. 
spying on naval defences was an idea he dreaded and dis- 
trusted. It was not the morality of the course thai 
bothered him. He was far too clear-headed to blink at ttia 
essential fact that at . irt we were spies on a foreign power 
in time of peace, or to salve his conscience by specious dis- 
tinctions as to our mode of operation. The foreign power to 
bim was DoUmann, ^ traitor. There was his final justifica- 
tion, fearlessly adopted and held to the last It was rather 
that, knowing his own limitations, his whole nature shrank 
from the sort of action entailed by the Memmert theory. 
And there was strong conunon-sense in his antipathy. 

So much for independent research. 

On the other hand the road was now clear for the other 
method. Davies no longer feared to face the imbroglio at 
Nordemey ; and that day fortune had given us a new and 
potent weapon against DoUmann, precisely how potent we 
could not tell, for we had only a glimpse of his past, and his 
exact relations with the Government were unknown to us. 
But we knew who he was. Using this knowledge with 
address, could we not wring the rest from him ? Feel our 
way, of course, be guided by his own conduct, but in the 
end strike hard and stake everything on the stroke ? Such 
at any rate was our scheme to-night. 

I^ter, tossing in my bunk, I bethought me of the little 
drab book, lit a candle, and fetched ii A preface explained 
that it had been written during a spell of two months' leave 
from naval duty, and expressed a hope that it might be of 
service to Corinthian sailors. The style was unadorned, but 
scholarly and pithy. There was no tiace of the writer's indi- 
viduality, save a certain subdued relish in describing banks 
and shoals, which reminded me of Davies himself. For the 
rest, I found the book dull, and, in fact, it sent me to sleep. 



218 



OHAPTEB XXI 

BLINDFOLD TO MEMMBBT 

'Hbbb she comes/ said Davies. It was nine o'clock on 
the next day, October 22, and we were on deck waiting for 
the arrival of the steamer from Norddeich. There was no 
change in the weather — still the same stringent cold, with 
a high barometer, and only fickle flaws of air ; but the 
morning was gloriously clear, except for a wreath or two 
of mist curling like smoke from the sea, and an attenuated 
belt of opaque fog on the northern horizon. The harbour 
lay open before us, and very commodious and civilised it 
looked enclosed between two long piers which ran quite 
half a mile out from the land to the roadstead (Riff-Gat, by 
name) where we lay. A stranger might have taken it for 
a deep and spacious haven ; but this of course was an 
illusion, due to the high water. Davies knew that three- 
quarters of it was mud, the remainder being a dredged-out 
channel along the western pier. A couple of tugs, a 
dredger, and a ferry packet with steam up, were moored on 
that side, a small stack of galliots on the other. Beyond 
these was another vessel, a galliot in build, but radiant as 
a queen among sluts ; her varnished sides and spars flash- 
ing orange in the sun. These and her snow-white sail- 
covers and the twinkle of brass and gun-metal, proclaimed 
her to be a yacht. I had already studied her through the 
glasses and read on her stem ' Medusa.' A couple of sailors 
were swabbing her decks ; you could hear the sluish of the 



1 



214 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

iraterftnd the soiatohingof deck-brooms. ^They oan see 
08 anyway/ Davies had said. 

For that matter aU the world could see us — certainly 
the incoming steamer must ; for we lay as near to the pier 
as safety permitted, abreast of the berth she would occupyi 
as we Imew by a gangway and a knot of sailors. 

A packet boat, not bigger than a big tug, was approach- 
ing from the south. 

' Bemember we're not supposed to know he's coming/ 
I said ; ' let's go below.' Besides the skylight, our ' coach- 
house' cabin top had little oblong side windows. We 
wiped dean those on the port side and watched events from 
them, kneeling on the sofa. 

The steamer backed her paddles, flinging out a wash that 
set us rolling to our scuppers. There seemed to be very 
few passengers aboard, but all of them were gazing at the 
' DulcibeUa ' while the packet was warped alongside. On the 
forward deck there were some market-women with baskets, 
a postman, and a weedy youth who might be an hotel- 
waiter ; on the after-deck, standing close together, were two 
men in ulsters and soft felt hats. 

^ There he is t ' said Davies, in a tense whisper, ' tho 
tall one.' > But the tall one turned abruptly as Davies spoke 
and strode away behind the deck-house, leaving me just a 
lightning impression of a grey beard and a steep tanned 
forehead, behind a doud of dgar-smoke. It was perverse 
of me, but, to tell the truth, I hardly missed him, so 
occupied was I by the short one, who remained leaning on 
the rail, thoughtfully contemplating the 'Duldbella ' through 
gold-rimmed pince-nez : a sallow, wizened old fellow, beetle- 
browed, with a bush of grizzled moustache and a jet-black 
tuft of beard on his chin. The most remarkable feature was 
the nose, which was broad and flat, merging almost imper- 
ceptibly in the wrinkled cheeks. Lightly beaked at the 
nether extremity, it drooped towards an enormous cigar 
which was pointing at us like a gun just discharged. He 



BLINIMFOLD TO MEMMEBT 216 

looked wise as Satan, and you would say he was smiling 
inwardly. 

* Who's that ? ' I whispered to Davies. 

(There was no need to talk in whispers, but we did so 
instinctively.) 

' Can't think/ said Davies. * Hullo t she's baoking ofif, 
and they've not landed.' 

Some parcels and mail-bags had been thrown up, and 
the weedy waiter and two market-women had gone up the 
gangway, which was now being hauled up, and were stand- 
ing on the quay. I think one or two other persons had 
first come aboard unnoticed by us, but at the last moment 
a man we had not seen before jumped down to the forward 
deck. ' Orimm i ' we both ejaculated at once. 

The steamer whistled sharply, circled backwards into 
the roadstead, and then steamed away. The pier soon hid 
her, but lier smoke showed she was steering towards the 
North Sea. 

* What does this mean ? ' I asked. 

' There must be some other quay to stop at nearer the 
town,' said Davies. * Let's go ashore and get your letters.' 

We had made a long and painful toilette that morning, 
and felt quite shy of one another as we sculled towards the 
pier, in much-creased blue suits, conventional collars^and 
brown boots. It was the first time for two years that I 
had seen Davies in anything approaching a respectable 
garb ; but a fashionable wat^ng-place, even in the dead 
season, exacts respect; and, besides, we had friends to 
visit. 

We tied up the dinghy to an iron ladder, and on the 
pier found our inquisitor of the night before smoking in 
the doorway of a shed marked 'Harbour-Master.' After 
some civilities we inquired about the steamer. The answer 
was that it was a Saturday, and she had therefore gone on 
to Juist. Did we want a good hotel? The 'Yier 
Jahreszeiten ' was still open, etc 



216 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

< Jtdst, by Jove I ' said Dairies^ as we walked oil 'Why 
are those three going to Jnist ? ' 

' I should have thought it was pzetty clear. They're ou 
their way to Memmert.' 

Davies agreed, and we both looked longingly westward 
at a straw-coloured streak on the sea* 

'Is it some meeting, do you thinkf ' said Davies* 

* Looks like it We shall probably find the '' Eormoran " 
here, wind-bound.' 

And find her we did soon after, the outermost of the 
stack of galliots, on the farther side of the harbour. Two 
men, whose faces we took a good look at, were sitting on 
her hatch, mending a saiL 

Flooded with sun, yet still as the grave, the town was 
like a dead butterfly for whom the healing rays bad come 
too late. We crossed some deserted public gardens com- 
manded by a gorgeous casino, its porticos heaped with 
chairs and tables ; so past Mosques and caf ^s, great white 
hotels with boarded windows, bazaars and booths, and all 
the stale lees of vulgar frivolity, to the post-office, which 
at least was alive. I received a packet of letters and 
purchased a local time-table from which we learnt that the 
steamer sailed daily to Borkum vid Norderney, touching 
three times a week at Juist (weather permitting). On the 
return journey to-day it was due at Norderney at 7.80 p.m. 
Then I inquired the way to the ' Vier Jahreszeiten,' ' for 
whatever your principles, Davies,' I said, ' we are going to 
have the best breakfast money can buy I We've got the 
whole day before us.' 

The < Four Seasons ' Hotel was on the esplanade facing 
the northern beach. Living up to its name, it announced on 
an illuminated signboard, ' inclusive terms for winter visitors, 
special attention to invalids, etc.' Here in a great glass 
restaurant, with the unruffled blue of ocean spread out before 
us, we ate the king of breakfasts, dismissed the waiter, and 
over long and fragrant Havanas examined my mail at leisure 



BMNDPOLD TO MEMMEBT 217 

'What a waste of good diplomaoyl' was my first 
thought ; for nothing had been tampered with, so far as we 
oould judge from the minutest scrutiny, directed, of course, 
in particular to the franked official letters (for to my 
surprise there were two) from Whitehall 

The first in order of date (October 6) ran — ^'Dear 
Carruthers, take another week by all means. — ^Yours, etc.' 
*' The second (marked 'urgent') had been sent to my 
home address and forwarded. It was dated October 15, and 
cancelled the previous letter, requesting me to return to 
London without delay — ' I am sorry to abridge your holiday, 
but we are very busy, and, at present, short-handed. — 
Yours, etc.' There was a dry postscript to the efiect that 
another time I was to be good enough to leave more 
regular and definite information as to my whereabouts 
when absent. 

'I'm afraid I never got this,' I said, handing it to 
Davies. 

' You won't go, will you ? ' said he, looking, neverthe- 
less, with unconcealed awe at the great man's handwriting 
under the haughty official crest. Meanwhile I discovered an 
endorsement on a corner of the envelope — 'Don't worry, 

it's only the Chief's fuss. M .' I promptly tore up 

the envelope. There are domestic mysteries which it would 
be indecent and disloyal to reveal, even to one's best friend. 
The rest of my letters need no remark ; I smiled over some 
and blushed over others — all were voices from a life which 
was infinitely far away. Davies, meanwhile, was deep in the 
foreign intelligence of a newspaper, spelling it out line by 
line, and referring impatiently to me for the meaning of 
words. 

' Hullo ! ' he said suddenly, ' same old game I Hear 
that siren ? ' 

A curtain of fog had grown on the northern horizon and 
was drawing shorewards slowly but surely. 
It doesn't matter, does it? ' I said. 



) 



U8 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' Well, we must get back to the Taoht. We oan't leave 
her alone in a fog.' 

There was some marketing to be done on the way baoky 
and in the course of looking for the shops we wanted we 
came on the Schwannallte and noted its position. Before 
we reached the harbour the fog was on us, charging up the 
streets in dense masses. Happily a tram-line led right up 
to the pier-heady or we should have lost our way and wasted 
time which, in the event, was of priceless value. Presently 
we stumbled up against the Harbour OflSce, which was our 
landmark for the steps where we had tied up the dinghy. 
The same official appeared and good-naturedly held the 
painter while we handed in our parcels. He wanted to 
know why we had left the flesh-pots of the Yier Jahreszeiten. 
To look after our yacht, of course. There was no need, he 
objected ; there would be no traffic moving while the fog 
lasted, and the fog, having copie on at that hour, had come 
to stay. If it did clear he would keep an eye on the 
yacht for us. We thanked him, but thought we would go 
aboard. 

* You'll have a job to find her now,' he said. 

The distance was eighty yards at the most, but we had 
to use a scientific method, the same one in fact that Davies 
had used last night in the approach to the eastern pier. 

' Bow straight out at right angles to the pier,' he said 
now ; I did so, Davies sounding with his scull between the 
strokes. He found the bottom after twenty yards, that 
being the width of the dredged-out channel at this point. 
Then we turned to the right and moved gently forward, 
keeping touch with the edge of the mud-bank (for all the 
world like blind men tapping along a curbstone) and taking 
short excursions from it, till the < Duldbella ' hove in view. 

'That's partly luck,' Davies commented; 'we ought 
to have had' a compass as well.' 

We exchanged shouts with the man on the pier to show 
we had arrived. 



BLINDFOLD TO MEMMERT 219 

'It's very good practice, that sort of thing/ said Dayies, 
when we had disembarked. 

' You've got a sixth sense/ I observed. < How far could 
you go like that?' 

' Don't know. Let's have another try. I can't sit still 
all day. Let's explore this channel.' 

' Why not go to Memmert 9 ' I said in fun. 

'To Memmert?' saidDavies slowly; 'by Jove, that's 
an idea ! '^ 

'Oood heavens, man! I was joking. Why, it's ten 
mortal miles.' 

'More,' said Davies absently. 'It's not so much the 

distance — what's the time? Ten fifteen: quarter ebbr 

What am I talking about? We made our plans last 
night.' 

But seeing him, to my amazement, serious, I was stung 
by the splendour of the idea I had awakened. Confidence 
in his skill was second nature to me. I swept straight on 
to the logic of the thing, the greatness, the completeness of 
the opportunity, if by a miracle it could be seized and used. 
Something was going on at Memmert to-day : our men had 
gone there ; here were we, ten miles away, in a smothering, 
blinding fog. It was known we were here—Dollmann and 
Orimm knew it ; the crew of the ' Medusa ' knew it ; the crew 
of the ' Eormoran ' knew it ; the man on the pier, whether he 
eared or not, knew it. But none of them knew Davies as I 
knew him. Would anyone dream for an instant ? 

'Stop a second,' suid Davies, 'give me two minutes.' 
He whipped out the German chart. ' Where exactly should 
we go ? ' (* Exactly I ' the word tickled me hugely.) 

' To the dep6t, of course ; it's our only chance.' 

' Listen then ; there are two routes : the outside one, by 
the open sea, right round Juist, and doubling south ^ — the 
simplest, but the longest ; the dep6t's at the south point of 
Memmert, and Memmert's nearly two miles long.' 

' See Chart opposite. 



f ' 



220 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' How far would that way bet ' 

' Sixteen miles good. And we shonld have to row in a 
breaking swell most of the way, close to land.' 

' Out of the question ; it's too public, too, if it dears. 
The steamer went that way and will come back that way. 
We most go inside over the sands. Am I dreaming, 
though 9 Can yon possibly find the way ? ' 

'I shouldn't wonder. But I don't believe you see the 
hitch. It's the Ume and the falling tide. High water was 
about 8.15 : it's now 10.15, and all those sands are drying 
off. We must cross the See-Gat and strike that boomed 
channel, the Memmert Balje, strike it, freeze on to it— 
can't cut off an inch — ^and pass that ** watershed " you see 
there before it's too late. It's an infernally bad one, I can 
see. Not even a dinghy will cross it for an hour each side of 
low water.' 

'Well, how far is the « watershed "? ' 

'Goodliordi What are we talking for ? Ohange,man, 
change I Talk while we're changing.' (He began flinging 
off his shore-clothes, and I did the same.) ' It's at least 
five miles to the end of it, six, allowing for bends ; hour 
and a half hard pulling; two allowing for checks. Are 
you fit? You'll have to pull the most. Then there are 

six or seven more miles — easier ones. And then What 

are we to do when we get there ? ' 

' Leave that to me,' I said. ' You get me there.' 

* Supposing it clears ? ' 

* After we get there 9 Bad ; but we must risk that. If 
it clears on the way there it doesn't matter by this route ; 
we shall be miles from land.' 

* What about getting back ? ' 

'We shall have a rising tide, anyway. If the fog 
lasts — can you manage in fog and dark ? ' 

' The dark makes it no more difficult, if we've a light 
to see the compass and chart by. You trim the binnacle* 
lamp — no, the riding-lighi Now give me the scissors, and 




BLINDFOLD TO MEMMEBT «21 

don't speak a word for ten minutes. Meanwhile, think it 
out, and load the dinghy — (by Jove 1 though, don't make a 
sound) — some grub and whisky, the boat-compass, lead, 
riding-light, matches, small boat-hook, grapnel and line.' 

' Foghorn ? ' 

' Yes, and the whistle too.' 

«Agun?* 

'What for?' 

' We're after ducks.' 

' All right. And muffle the rowlocks with cotton- waste.' 

I left Davies absorbed in the charts, and softly went 
about my own functions. In ten minutes he was on the 
ladder, beckoning. 

' I've done,' he whispered. * Now shall we go ? ' 

< I've thought it out. Yes,' I answered. 

This was only roughly true, for I could not have stated 
in words all the pros and cons that I had balanced. It was 
an impulse that drove me forward ; but an impulse founded 
on reason, with just a tinge, perhaps, of superstition ; for the 
quest had begun in a fog and might fitly end in one. 

It was twenty-five minutes to eleven when we noiselessly 
pushed off. ' Let her drift,' whispered Davies, ' the ebb'U 
carry her past the pier.' 

We slid by the ' Duldbella,' and she disappeared. Then 
we sat without speech or movement for about five minutes, 
while the gurgle of tide through piles approached and 
passed. The dinghy appeared to be motionless, just as a 
balloon in the clouds may appear to its occupants to be 
motionless, though urged by a current of air. In reahty 
we were driving out of the Biff-Oat into the See-Gat. The 
dinghy swayed to a light swell. 

* Now pull,' said Davies, under his breath ; ' keep it long 
and _steady, above all, steady — both arms with equal force.' 
was on the bow-thwart ; he ms-d-vis to me on the 
stem seat, his left hand behind him on the tiller, his right 
forefinger on a small square of paper which lay on his 



222 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

knees; this was a section oat oat bom the big German 
obart^ a section exactly reprodaoed at page 219^ On the 
midship-thwart between as lay the compass and a watch. 
Between these three objects — compass, watch, and chart — 
his eyes darted constantly, never looking ap or oat, save oo^ 
casionally for a sharp glance over the side at &e flying 
babbles, to see that I was sastaining a regalar speed. My 
daty was to be his aatomaton, the haman eqoivalent of 
a marine engine whose revolations can be counted and ased 
as data by the navigator. My arms mast be regalar as twin 
pistons; the energy that drove them as controllable as 
steam. It was a hard ideal to reach, for the complex 
mortal tends to rely on all the senses Ood has given him, so 
unfitting himself for mechanical exactitade when a sense 
(eyesight, in my case) fails him. At first it was constantly 
' left ' or ' right * from Davies, accompanied by a babbling 
from the radder. 

* This won't do, too mach helm,' said Davies, withoat 
looking ap. ' Keep yoar stroke, bat listen to me. Can yoa 
see the compass card? ' 

* When I come forward.' 

' Take yoar time, and don't get flurried, bat each time 
yoa come forward have a good look at it. The coarse is 
soa'-west half -west. Yoa take the opposite, north-east half - 
east, and keep her stem on thai It'll be rough, but it'll 
save some helm, and give me a hand free if I want it.' 

I did as he said, not withoat effort, and our progress 
gradually became smoother, till he had no need to speak at 
aU. The only sound now was one like the gentle simmer 
of a saucepan away to port — the lisp of surf I knew it to 
be — and the muffled grunt of the rowlocks. I broke the 
silence once to say ' It's very shallow.' I had touched sand 
with my right scull. 

' Don't talk,' said Davies. 

About half an hour passed, and then he added 
sounding to his other occupations. ' Flump ' went the lead 



BLINDFOLD TO MEMMEBT 228 

•t regular intervals, and he steered with his hip while 
palling in the line. Very little of it went ont at first, then 
less stilL Again I struck bottom, and glancing aside saw 
weeds. Suddenly he got a deep cast, and the dinghy, freed 
from the slight drag which shallow water always inflicts on 
a small boat, leapt buoyantly forward. At the same time, 
I knew by boils on the smooth surface that we were in 
a strong tide- way. 

' The Buse Tief ,' ^ muttered Davies. ' Bow hard now, and 
steady as a clock.' 

For a hundred yards or more I bent to my sculls and 
made her fly. Davies was getting six fathom casts, tiU, 
just as suddenly as it had deepened, the water shoaled — ten 
feet, six, three, one — the dinghy grounded. 

' Good t ' said Davies. ' Back her off t Pull your right 
only.' The dinghy spun round with her bow to N.N.W. 
' Both arms together I Don't you worry about the compass 
now ; just pull, and listen for orders. There's a tricky bit 
coming.' 

He put aside the chart, kicked the lead under the seat, 
and, kneeling on the dripping coils of line, sounded con- 
tinuously with the butt-end of the boat-hook, a stumpy 
little implement, notched at intervals of a foot, and often 
before used for the same purpose. All at once I was aware 
that a check had come, for the dinghy swerved and doubled 
like a hound ranging after scent. 

' Stop her,' he said suddenly, ' and throw out the grapnel/ 

I obeyed and we brought up, swinging to a slight 
current, whose direction Davies verified by the compass. 
Then for half a minute he gave himself up to concentrated 
thought. What struck me most about him was that he 
never for a moment strained his eyes through the fog ; 
a useless exercise (for five yards or so was the radius of our 
vision) which, however, I could not help indulging in, while 
I rested. He nuide up his mind, and we were off again, 

I Bee Chart 



ia4 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

straight and swift as an arrow this time, and in water 
deeper than the boathook. I oould see by his face that he 
was taking some bold expedient whose issue hong in the 
balance. . • • Again we touched mad, and the artist's joy of 
achievement shone in his eyes. Backing away, we headed 
west, and for the first time he began to gaze into the fog. 

< There's one I ' he snapped at last. ' Easy all ! ' 

A boom, one of the usual upright saplings, glided out of 
the mist. He caught hold of it and we brought up. 

' Best for three minutes now,' he said. ' We're in taidj 
good time.' 

It was 11.10. I ate some biscuits and took a nip of 
whisky while Davies prepared for the next stage. 

We had reached the eastern outlet of Memmert Balje, 
the channel which runs east and west behind Juist Island, 
direct to the south point of Memmert. How we had 
reached it was incomprehensible to me at the time, but the 
reader will understand by comparing my narrative with the 
dotted line on the cluurt. I add this brief explanation, 
that Davies's method had been to cross the channel called 
the Buse Tief, and strike the other side of it at a point well 
south of the outlet of the Memmert Balje (in view of the 
northward set of the ebb-tide), and then to drop back north 
and feel his way to the outlet. The check was caused by a 
deep indentation in the Itzendorf Flat ; a cul'de-sac, with a 
wide mouth, which Davies was very near mistaking for the 
Balje itself. We had no time to skirt de^ts so deep as 
that ; hence the dash across its mouth with the chance of 
missing the upper lip altogether, and of either being carried 
out to sea (for the slightest error was cumulative) or stray- 
ing fruitlessly along the edge. 

The next three miles were the most critical of all. They 
included the 'watershed,' whose length and depth were 
doubtful ; they included, too, the crux of the whole passage, 
a spot where the channel forks, our own branch continuing 
west, and another branch diverging from it north-westward. 



BLINDFOLD TO MEMMEET 225 

We must row against time, and yet we must negotiate thai 
orax. Add to this that the oorrent was against ns till the 
watershed was crossed ; that the tide was just at its most 
baffling stage, too low to allow us to risk short cuts, and too 
high to give defbiition to the banks of the channel ; and 
that the compass was no aid whatever for the minor bends. 

' Time's up,' said Davies, and on we went. 

I was hugging the comfortable thought that we should 
now have booms on our starboard for the whole distance ; 
on our starboard, I say, for experience had taught us that 
all channels running parallel with the coast and islands 
were uniformly boomed on the northern side. Anyone less 
confident than Davies would have succumbed to the tempta- 
tion of slavishly relying on these marks, creeping from one 
to the other, and wasting precious time. But Davies knew 
our friend the * boom ' and his eccentricities too well ; and 
preferred to trust to his sense of touch, which no fog in the 
world could impaur. If we happened to sight one, well and 
good, we should know which side of the channel we were on. 
But even this contingent advantage he deliberately sacrificed 
after a short distance, for he crossed over to the south or 
nnboomed side and steered and sounded along it, using the 
Itzendorf Flat as his handrail, so to speak. He was com- 
pelled to do this, he told me afterwards, in view of the crux, 
where the converging lines of booms would have involved 
us in irremediable confusion. Our branch was the southern 
one, and it followed that we must use the southern bank, 
and defer obtaining any help from booms until sure we were 
past that critical spot. 

For an hour we were at the extreme strain, I of physical 
exertion, he of mental. I could not get into a steady swing, 
for little checks were constant. My right scull was for ever 
skidding on mud or weeds, and the backward suck of shoal 
water clogged our progress. Once we were both of us out 
iu the slime tugging at the dinghy's sides : then in again, 
blundering on. I found the fog bemusing, lost all idea of 



S26 THE BIDDIiE OF THE SANDS 

time and space, and felt like a senseleBS marionette kicking 
and jerking to a mad masic without tone or time. Tha 
misty form of Davies as he sat with his right arm swinging 
rhythmically forward and back, was a clockwork figure as 
mad as myself, but didactic and gibbering in his madness. 
Then the boathook he wielded with a dzcolar sweep b^gan 
to take grotesque shapes in my heated fancy : now it was 
the antenna of a groping insect, now the crank of a cripple's 
self-propelled perambulator, now the alpenstock of a lunatic 
mountaineer, who sits in his chair and climbs and climbs 
to some phantom ' watershed.' At the back of such mind 
as was lett me lodged two insistent thoughts : ' we must 
hurry on,' ' we are going wrong.' As to the latter, take a 
link-boy through a London fog and you will experience the 
same thing : he always goes the way you think is wrong. 
* We're rowing back I ' I remember shouting to Davies 
once, having become aware that it was now my left scull 
which splashed against obstructions. 'Bubbish,' said 
Davies, * I've crossed over ' ; and I relapsed. 

By degrees I returned to sanity, thanks to improving 
conditions. It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and 
the state of the tide, though it threatened us with total 
failure, had the compensating advantage that the lower it 
fell the more constricted and defined became our channel ; 
till the time came when the compass and boathook were 
alike unnecessary, because our handrail, the muddy brink 
of the channel, was visible to the eye, close to us ; on our 
right hand always now, for the crux was far behind, and 
the northern side was now our guide. All that remained 
was to press on with might and main ere the bed of the 
creek dried. 

What a race it was ! Homeric, in effect ; a struggle of 
men with gods, for what were the gods but forces of nature 
personified 9 If the God of the Falling Tide did not figure 
in the Olympian circle he is none the less a mighty divinity. 
Davies left his post, and rowed stroke. Under our united 



i 



BLINDPOLD TO MEMMEBT 227 

efforts the dinghy advanced m strenaons leaps, hurling 
miniature rollers on the bank beside us. My palms, seasoned 
as they were, were smarting with watery blisters. The 
pace was too hot for my strength and breath. 

* I must have a rest,' I gasped. 

' Well, I think we're over it,' said Davies. 

We stopped the dinghy dead, and he stabbed over 
side with the boathook. It passed gently astern of us, 
and even my bewildered brain took in the meaning of 
that. 

< Three feet and the current with us. Well over it,' he 
said. ' I'll paddle on while you rest and feed.' 

It was a few minutes past one and we still, as he 
calculated, had eight miles before us, allowing for bends. 

' But it's a mere question of muscle,' he said. 

I took his word for it, and munched at tongueand biscuits. 
As for muscle, we were both in hard condition. He was 
fresh, and what distress I felt was mainly due to spasmodic 
exertion culminating in that desperate spurt. As for the 
fog, it had more than once shown a faint tendency to lift, 
grown thinner and more luminous, in the manner of fogs, 
always to settie down again, heavy as a quilt. 

Note the spot marked 'second rest' (approximately 
correct, Davies says) and the course of the channel from 
that point westward. Tou will see it broadening and 
deepening to the dimensions of a great river, and finally 
merging in the estuary of the Ems. Note, too, that its 
northern boundary, the edge of the now uncovered Nordland 
Sand, leads, with one interruption (marked A), direct to 
Memmert, and is boomed throughout. You will then 
understand why Davies made so light of the rest of his 
problem. Compared with the feats he had performed, it 
was child's play, for he always had that visible margin to 
keep touch with if he chose, or to return to in case of doubt. 
As a matter of fact — observe our dotted line — he made 
two daring departures from it, the first purely to save time, 

q2 



828 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

the second purtly to save time and partly to avoid the veiy 
awkward spot marked A, where a creek with booms and a 
little delta of its own interrapts the even bank. During 
the first of these departures, the shortest but most brilliant^ 
he let me do the rowing, and devoted himself to the niceties 
of the course; during the second, and through both the 
intermediate stages, he rowed himself, with occasional pauses 
to inspect the chart. We fell into a long, measured stroke^ 
and covered the miles rapidly, scarcely exchanging a single 
word till, at the end of a long pull through vacancy, Davies 
said suddenly : 

'Now where are we to land ? ' 

A sandbank was looming over us crowned by a lonely 
boom. 

* Where are we ? ' 

* A quarter of a mile from Memmert* 
< What time is it ^ ' 

* Nearly three.' 



/ 



229 



CHAPTER XXn 

THB QUABTETTB 

His tour 4^ force was aohieved, and for the moment some- 
thing like collapse set in. 

* What in the world have we come here for ? ' he muttered ; 
'I feel a bit giddy.' 

I made him drink some whisky, which revived him ; 
and then, speaking in whispers, we settled certain points. 

I alone was to land. Davies demurred to this out of 
loyalty, but common-sense, coinciding with a strong aversion 
of his own, settled the matter. Two were more liable to 
detection than one. I spoke the language weU, and if 
challenged could cover my retreat with a gruff word or two ; 
in my woollen overalls, sea-boots, oilskin coat, with a sou'- 
wester pulled well over my eyes, I should pass in a fog for 
a Frisian. Davies must mind the dinghy ; but how was I 
to regain it ? I hoped to do so without help, by using the 
edge of the sand ; but if he heard a long whistle he was to 
blow the foghorn. 

' Take the pocket-compass,' he said. ' Never budge from 
the shore without using it, and lay it on the ground for 
steadiness. Take this scrap of chart too — ^it may come in 
useful ; but you can't miss the depdt, it looks to be close 
to the shore. How long will you be ? * 

' How long have I got ? ' 

* The young flood's making — has been for nearly an hour 
— that bank (he measured it with his eye) will be covering 
in an hour and a half.' 



280 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' Thai ought to be enough.* 

'Don't ran it too fine. It's steep here, but it may 
shelve further on. If jou have to wade you'll never find 
me and you'll make a deuoe of a row. Got your watoh, 
matches, knife? No knife? Take mine; never go any- 
where without a knife.' (It was his seaman's idea of 
efficiency.) 

* Wait a bit| we must settle a place to meet at in case I'm 
late and can't reach you here.' 

*Don*t be late. We've got to get back to the yacht 
before we're missed.' 

' But I may have to hide and wait till dark — ^the fog 
may clear.' 

' We were fools to come, I believe,' said Davies, gloomily. 
' There a/re no meeting-places in a place like this. Here's 
the best I can see on the chart — a big triangular beacon 
marked on the very point of Memmert. You'll pass it.' 

•All right. I'moflF.' 

* Good luck,' said Davies faintly. 

I stepped out, climbed a miry glacis of five or six feet, 
reached hard wet sand, and strode away with the sluggish 
ripple of the Balje on my left hand. A curtain dropped 
between me and Davies, and I was alone — alone, but how I 
thrilled to feel the firm sand rustle under my boots ; to know 
that it led to dry land, where, whatever befell, I at least 
could give my wits full play. I clove the fog briskly. 

Good heavens I what was that ? I stopped short and 
listened. From over the water on my left there rang out, 
dulled by fog, but distinct to the ear, three double strokes 
on a bell or gong. I looked at my watch. 

' Ship at anchor,' I said to myself. * Six bells in the 
afternoon watch.' I knew the Balje was here a deep road- 
stead, where a vessel entering the Eastern Ems might very 
well anchor to ride out a fog. 

I was just stepping forward when another sound followed 
from the same quarter, a bugle-call this time. Then I 



THE QUARTETTE 281 

understood — only men-of-war sound bugles — the 'Blitz* 
was here then ; and very natural, too, I thought, and strode 
on. The sand was growing drier, the water further beneath 
me; then came a thin black ribbon of weed — high- water 
mark. A few cautious steps to the right and I touched tufts 
of marram grass. It was Memmert. I pulled out the 
chart and refreshed my memory. No 1 there could be no 
mistake: keep the sea on my left and I must go right. 
I followed the ribbon of weed, keeping it just in view, but 
walking on the verge of the grass for the sake of silence. 
All at once I almost tripped over a massive iron bar ; 
others, a rusty network of them, grew into being above and 
around me, like the arms of a ghostly polyp. 

' What infernal spider's web is this ? ' I thought, and 
stumbled clear. I had strayed into the base of a gigantic 
tripod, its gaunt legs stayed and cross-stayed, its apex lost 
in fog: the beacon, I remembered. A hundred yards 
further and I was down on my knees again, listening with 
might and main ; for several little sounds were in the air — 
voices, the rasp of a boat's keel, the whistling of a tune. 
These were straight ahead ; more to the left, seaward, that 
is, I had aural evidence of the presence of a steamboat — a 
small one, for the hiss of escaping steam was low down. 
On my right front, I as yet heard nothing ; but the dep6t 
must be there. 

I prepared to strike away from my base, and laid the 
compass on the ground — ^N.W. roughly I made the course. 
('South-east — south-east for coming back,' I repeated 
inwardly, like a child learning a lesson). Then of my two 
allies I abandoned one, the beach, and threw myself wholly 
on the fog. 

'Play the game,' I said to myself. 'Nobody expects 
you, nobody will recognise you.' 

I advanced in rapid stages of ten yards or so, while 
grass disappeared and soft sand took its place, pitted 
everywhere with footmarks. I trod carefully, for obstruo- 



282 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

tions began to show themselyeB, an anchor, a heap of rusty 
cable ; then a boat bottom upwards, and, lying on it, a fonl 
old meerschanm pipe. I paused here and strsdned my ears, 
for there were sounds in many directions ; the same 
whistling (behind me now), heavy footsteps in front ; and 
somewhere beyond — fifty yards away, I reckoned — a buzz 
of guttural conversation ; from the same quarter there 
drif tidd to my nostrils the acrid odour of coarse tobacco. 
Then a door banged. 

I put the compass in my pocket (thinking ' south-west, 
south-west '), placed the pipe between my teeth (ugh ! the 
rank savour of it !) rammed my sou'-wester hard down, and 
slouched on in the direction of the door that had banged. 
A voice in front called, ' Earl Schicker ' ; a nearer voice, 
that of the man whose footsteps I had heard approaching, 
took it up and called, * Earl Schicker ' ; I, too, took it up, 
and turning my back, called ' Earl Schicker ' as gruffly and 
gutturally as I could. The footsteps passed quite close to 
me, and glancing over my shoulder I saw a young man 
passing, dressed very like me, but wearing a sealskin cap 
instead of a sou*-wester. As he walk"^ he seemed to be 
counting coins in his palm. A hail came back from the 
beach and the whistling stopped. 

I now became aware that I was on a beaten track. 
These meetings were hazardous, so I inclined aside, but not 
vrithout misgivings ; for the path led towards the buzz of 
talk and the banging door, and these were my on^y guides 
to the dep6t. Suddenly, and much before I expected it, I 
knew rather than saw that a wall was in front of me ; now 
it was visible, the side of a low building of corrugated iron. 
A pause to reconnoitre was absolutely necessary ; but the 
knot of talkers might have heard my footsteps, and I must 
at all costs not suggest the groping of a stranger. I lit a 
match — two — ^and sucked heavily (as I had seen navvies do) 
at my pipe, studying the trend of the wall by reference to 
the sounds. There was a stale dottle wedged in the bowl, 



THE QUARTETTE 



888 



and loathsome fumes resulted. Just then the same door 
banged again, another name, which I forget, was called out 
I decided that I was at the end of a rectangular building 
which I pictured as like an Aldershot ' hut,' and that the 
door I heard was round the corner to my UfU A knot of 
men must be gathered there, entering it by turns. Having 
expectorated noisily, I followed the tin wall to my rights 
and turning a corner strolled leisurely on, passing signs of 
domesticity, a wash-tub, a water-butt, then a tiled approach 
to an open door. I now was aware of the comer of a 
second building, also of zinc, parallel to the first, but taller, 
for I could only just see the eave. I was just going to turn 
off to this as a more promising field for exploration, when I 
\Leard a window open ahead of me in my original building. 
I am afraid I am getting obscure, so I append a rough 
sketch of the scene, as I partly saw and chiefly imagined ii 




It was window (a) that I heard open. From it I could 
just distinguish through the fog a hand protrude, and throw 
something out — a cigar-end ? The hand, a clean one with 
a gold signet ring, rested for an instant afterwards on the 
sash, and then closed the window. 

My geography was clear now in one respect. That 
window belonged to the same room as the banging door (b) ; 
for I distinctly heard the latter open and shut again, 



t84 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

opposite me, on the other side of the building. It stmck 
me that it might be interesting to see into that room. 
* Plaj the game ' I reminded myself, and retreated a few 
jards back on tiptoe, then tamed and sauntered coolly 
past the window, puffing my villainous pipe and taking a 
long deliberate look into the interior as I passed — ^the more 
deliberate that at the first instant I realised that nobody 
inside was disturbing himself about me. As I had expected 
(in view of the fog and the time) there was artificial light 
within. My mental photograph was as follows : a small 
room with varnished deal walls and furnished like an 
office ; in the far right-hand comer a counting-house desk, 
Grimm sitting at it on a high stool, side-face to me, count* 
ing money ; opposite him in an awkward attitude a burly 
fellow in seaman's dress holding a diver's helmei In the 
middle of the room a deal table, and on it something big 
and black. Lolling on chairs near it, their backs to me and 
their faces turned towards the desk and the diver, two men 
— ^von Briining and an older man with a bald yellow head 
(DoUmann's companion on the steamer, beyond a doubt). 
On another chair, with its back actually tilted against the 
v^indow, Dollmann. 

Such were the principal features at the scene ; for detail 
I had to make another inspection. Stooping low, I crept 
back, quiet as a cat, till I was beneath the window, and, as 
I calculated, directly behind DoUmann's chair. Then with 
great caution I raised my head. There was only one pair 
of eyes in the room that I feared in the least, and that was 
Orimm's, who sat in profile to me, furthest away. I 
instantly put DoUmann's back between Orimm and me, and 
then made my scrutiny. As I made it, I could feel a cold 
sweat distilling on my forehead and tickling my spine ; not 
from fear or excitement, but from pure ignominy. For 
beyond aU doubt I was present at the meeting of a bond' 
fide salvage company. It was pay-day, and the directors 
appeared to be taking stock of work done ; that was alL 



\ 
\ 

\ 



THE QUABTETTB 1185 

Over the door was an old engraidng of a two^deoker 
under full sail ; pinned on the wall a chart and the plan of 
a ship. Belies of the wrecked frigate abounded. On a 
shelf above the stove was a small pyramid of encrusted 
cannon-balls, and, supported on nails at odd places on the 
walls, were corroded old pistols and what I took to be the 
remains of a sextant. In a comer of the floor sat a hoary 
little carronade, carriage and alL None of these things 
affected me so much as a pile of lumber on the floor, not 
fire- wood but unmistakable wreck- wood, black as bog-oaki 
still caked in places with the mud of ages. Nor was it the 
mere sight of this lumber that dumfounded me. It was 
the fact that a fragment of it, a balk of curved timber 
garnished with some massive bolts, lay on the table, and 
was evidently an object of earnest interest. The diver had 
turned and was arguing with gestures over it, von Bruning 
and Onmm were pressing another view. The diver shook 
his head frequently, finally shrugged his shoulders, made a 
salutation and left the room. Their movements had kept 
me ducking my head pretty frequently, but I now grew 
almost reckless as to whether I was seen or not. All the 
weaknesses of my theory crowded on me — the arguments 
Davies had used at Bensersiel ; Fraulein Dollmann's 
thoughtless talk; the ease (comparatively) with which I 
had reached this spot, not a barrier to cross or a lock to 
force; the publicity of their passage to Memmert by 
Dollmann, his friend, and Grimm ; and now this glimpse of 
business-like routine. In a few moments I sank from 
depth to depth of scepticism. Where were my mines, 
torpedoes, and submarine boats, and where my imperial 
conspirators? Was gold after all at the bottom of this 
sordid mystery? Dollmann after all a common-place 
criminal ? The ladder of proof I had mounted tottered and 
shook beneath me. * Don't be a fool,' said the faint voice 
of reason. ' There are your four men. Wait.' 

Two more employes came into the room in quick 



S86 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

■oooession and leoeiYed wages ; one looking like a fireman, 
the other of a snperior type, the skipper of a tug, say. 
There was another iKscossion with this latter over the balk 
of wreok-wood, and this man too shrugged his shoulders. 
His departure appeared to end the meeting. Grimm shut 
np a ledger, and I shrank down on m j knees, for a geneial 
shifting of ohairs began. At the same time, from the other 
side of the building, I heard my knot of men retreating 
beachwards, spitting and chatting as they went Presently 
someone walked across the room towards my window. I sidled 
away on all fours, rose and flattened myself erect against 
the wall, a sickening despondency on me ; my intention to 
slink away south-east as soon as the coast was dear. But 
the sound that came next pricked me like an electric shock ; 
it was the tinkle and scrape of curtain-rings. 

Quick as thought I was back in my old position, to find 
my view barred by a cretonne curtain. It was in one piece, 
with no chink for my benefit, but it did not hang straight^ 
bulging towards me under the pressure of something — 
human shoulders, by the shape. Dollmann, I concluded, 
was still in his old place. I now was exasperated to find 
that I could scarcely hear a word that was said, not even 
by pressing my ear against the glass. It was not that the 
speakers were of set purpose hushing their voices — ^they 
used an ordinary tone for intimate discussion ; but the glass 
and curtain deadened the actual words. Still, I was soon 
able to distinguish general characteristics. Von Briining's 
voice — the only one I had ever heard before — ^I recognised 
at once ; he was on the left of the table, and Dollmann's I 
knew from his position. The third was a harsh croak, 
belonged to the old gentleman whom, for convenience, I 
shall prematurely begin to call Herr Bdhme. It was too 
old a voice to be Orimm's ; besides, it had the ring of 
authority, and was dealing at the moment in sharp internv 
gations. Three of its sentences I caught in their entirety. 
' When was that ? ' « They went no further ? ' and ' Too 



THE QUARTETTE 287 

long: out of the qnestion.' Dollmann's voice, though 
neftrest me, was the least audible of all. It was a dogged 
monotone, and what was that odd naovement of the curtain 
at his back ? Yes, his hands were behind him clutching 
and kneading a fold of the cretonne. 'You are feeling 
uncomfortable, my friend,' was my comment. Suddenly 
he threw back his head — I saw the dent of it — ^and spoke 
up so that I could not miss a word. ' Very well, sir, you 
shall see them at supper to-night ; I will ask them both.' 

(You will not be surprised to learn that I instantly 
looked at my watch — though it takes long to write what I 
have described — ^but the time was only a quarter to four). 
He added something abput the fog, and his chair creaked. 
Ducking promptly Ilieaia the curtain-rings jar, and: 'Thick 
as ever.' 

'Your report, Herr Dollmann,' said Bdhme curtly. 
Dollmann left the window and moved his chair up to the 
table ; the otiher two drew in theirs and settled themselves. 

' Chatham,* said Dollmann, as if announcing a heading. 
It was an eaer^ word to catch, rapped out sharp, and you 
can imagine how it startled me. ' That's where you've been 
for the last month I ' I said to myself. A map crackled 
and I knew they were bending over it, while Dollmann 
explained something. But now my exasperation became 
acute, for not a syllable more reached me. Squatting back 
on my heels, I cast about for expedients. Should I steal 
round and try the door ? Too dangerous. Climb to the 
roof and lijpten down the stove-pipe? Too noisy, and 
generally hopeless. I tried for a downward purchase on 
the upper half of the window, which was of the simple sort 
in two sections, working vertically. No use; it resisted 
gentle pressure, would start with a sudden jar if I forced it. 
I pulled out Davies's knife and worked the point of the 
blade between sash and frame to give it play — no result ; 
but the knife was a nautical one, with a marling-spike as 
well as a big blade. 



S88 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

Joflt now the door within opened and shut again, and I 
heard steps approaching round the comer to my right. I 
had the presence of mind not to lose a moment, but moved 
silently away (blessing the deep Frisian sand) round the 
corner of the big parallel building. S(»neone whom I could 
not see walked past till his boots clattered on tiles, next 
resounded on boards. 'Qrimm in his living-room,' I 
inferred. The precious minutes ebbed away — ^five, ten, 
fifteen. Had he gone for good? I dared not return 
otherwise. Eighteen — he was coming outl This time I 
stole forward boldly when the man had just passed, dimly 
saw a figure, and clearly enough the glint of a white paper 
he was holding. He made his circuit and re-entered the room. 

Here I felt and conquered a relapse to scepticism. ^ If 
this is an important conclave why don't they set guards ? ' 
Answer, the only possible one, ' Because they stand alone. 
Their employes, like everyone we had met hitherto, know 
nothing. The real object of this salvage company (a poor 
speculation, I opined) is solely to afford a pretext for the 
conclave.' * Why the curtain, even ? * ' Because there are 
maps, stupid I ' 

I was back again at the window, but as impotent as ever 
against that even stream of low confidential talk. But I 
would not give up. Fate and the fog had brought me here^ 
the one solitary soul perhaps who by the chain of circum- 
stances had both the wiU and the opportunity to wrest their 
secret from these four men. 

The marHng-spike I Where the lower half of the window 
met the sill it sank into a shallow groova I thrust the 
point of the spike down into the interstice between sash and 
frame and heaved with a slowly increasing force, which I 
could regulate to the fraction of an ounce, on this powerful 
lever. The sash gave, with the faintest possible protest, 
and, by imperceptible degrees, I lifted it to the top of the 
groove and the least bit above it, say half an inch in all ; 
but it made an appreciable difierence to the sounds within, 



THE QUARTETTE 289 

M when yon remove your foot from a piano's soft pedaL I 
could do no more, for there was no further fulcrum for the 
spike, and I dared not gamble away what I had won by using 
my hands. 

Hope sank again when I placed my cheek on the damp 
sill, and my ear to the chink. My men were close round 
the table referring to papers which I heard rustle. Doll- 
mann's ' report ' was evidently over, and I rarely heard his 
voice ; Orimm's occasionally, von Briining's and Bohme's 
frequently; but, as before, it was the latter only that I 
could ever count on for an intelligible word. For,- un- 
fortunately, the villains of the pi€ce plotted without any 
regard to dramatic fitness or to my interests. Immersed in 
a subject with which they were all familiur, they were 
allusive, elliptic, and persistently technicaL Many of the 
words I did catch were unknown to me. The rest were, for 
the most part, either letters of the alphabet or statistical 
figures, of depth, distance, and, once or twice, of time. The 
letters of the alphabet recurred often, and seemed, as far as 
I could make out, to represent the key to the cipher. The 
numbers clustering round them were mostly very small 
with decimals. What maddened me most was the scarcity 
of plain nouns. 

To report what I heard to the reader would be impossible ; 
80 chaotic was most of it that it left no impression on my 
own memory. All I can do is to tell him what fragments 
stuck and what nebulous classification I evolved. The 
letters ran from A to G, and my best continuous chance 
came when Bohme, reading rapidly from a paper, I think, 
went through the letters, backwards from G, adding remarks 

to each; thus: — 'G completed.' *F 

bad 1-8 (metres ?) 2-5 (kilometres ?).' « E 

thirty-two 1-2.' ' D 8 weeks 

thirty.' ' C ' and so on. 

Another time he went through this list again, only 
naming each letter himself, and receiving laconic answers 



240 THE BIDDLE OP THE SANDS 

from Orimm — answers whioh seemed to be nmnbers, but I 
could not be sure. For minutes together I caught nothing 
but the scratching of pens and inarticulate mutterings. Bat 
out of the muck-heap I picked five pearls — ^four sibilant 
nouns and a name that I knew before. The nouns were 
' Schlepp-boote ' (tugs) ; * Wassertiefe ' (depth of water) ; 
< Eisenbahn ' (railway) ; * Lotsen ' (pilots). The name, also 
sibilant and thus easiest to hear, was ' Esens.' 

Two or three times I had to stand back and ease my 
cramped neck, and on each occasion I looked at my watch, 
for I was listening against time, just as we had rowed 
against time. We were going to be asked to supper and 
must be back aboard the yacht in time to receive the 
invitation. The fog still brooded heavily and the light, 
always bad, was growing worse. How would they get back ? 
How had they come from Juist ? Oould we forestall them f 
Questions of time, tide, distance — ^just the odious sort of 
sums I was unfit to cope with — were distracting my attention 
when it should have been whoUy elsewhere. 4.20—4.25 — 
now it was past 4*80, when Davies said the bank would 
cover. I should have to make for the beacon; but it 
was fatally near that steamboat, path, etc., and I still at 
intervals heard voices from there. 

It must have been about 4.85 when there was another 
shifting of chairs within. Then someone rose, collected 
papers, and went out ; someone else, without rising (therefore 
Orimm), followed him. 

There was silence in the room for a minute, and after 
that, for the first time, I heard some plain colloquial Oerman, 
with no accompaniment of scratching or rustling. * I must 
wait for this,' I thought, and waited. 

' He insists on coming,' said Bohme. 

* Ach i ' (an ejaculation of surprise and protest from 
von Briining). 

< I said the 25tL* 

'Why?' 



THE QUARTETTE 841 

' The tide serves welL — The night-train, of course. Tell 

Grimm to be ready " (An inaudible question from von 

Brnning.) 

'No, any weather/ A laugh from von Bruning and 
some words I could not catch. 

< Only one, with half a load.' 

' meet?' 

' At the station.' 

' So—how's the fog ? ' 

This appeared to be really the end. Both men rose and 
steps came towards the window. I leapt aside as I heard it 
thrown up, 'kni covered by the noise backed into safety. 
Von Bruning called ' Grimm 1 ' and that, and the open 
window, decided me that my line of advance was now too 
dangerous to retreat by. The only alternative was to make 
a drcuit round the bigger of the two buildings — ^and an 
interminable drcuit it seemed-«and all the while I knew my 
compass-course 'south-east' was growing nugatory. I 
passed a padlocked door, two corners, and faced the void of 
fog. Out came the compass, and I steadied myself for the 
sum. ' South-east before — ^I'm further to the eastward now 
oas t will about do ' ; and o£F I went, with an error of 
four whole points,, over tussocks and deep sand. The beach 
seemed much furtiber off than I had thought, and I began 
to get alarmed ; puzzled over the compass several times, 
and finally realised that I had lost my way. I had thesense 
not to make matters worse by trying to find it again, and, 
as the lesser of two evils, blew my whistle, softly at first, 
then louder. The bray of a foghorn sounded right behind 
me. I whistled again and then ran for my life, the horn 
sounding at intervals. In three or four minutes I was on 
the beach and in the dinghy. 



242 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB XXra 

▲ CHANaB OF TAOTIOS 

Wb pushed off without a word, and paddled out of Bight of 
the beach. A voice was approaching, hailing us. ' Hail 
back/ whispered Davies, ' pretend we're a gallioi' 

* Ho-a,' I shouted, ' where am I ? ' 

' Off Memmert,' came back. ' Where are you bound ? ' 

* Delfzyl,' whispered Davies. 

* Delf-zyl,' I bawled. 

A sentence ending with * anchor ' was returned. 

'The flood's tearing east,' whispered Davies; 'sit 
BtilL' 

We heard no more, and, after a few minutes' drifting, 
< What luck f ' said Davies. 

* One or two clues, and an invitation to supper.' 

The clues I left till later ; the invitation was the thing, 
and I explained its urgency. 

' How will they get back ? ' said Davies ; ' if the fog 
lasts the steamer's sure to be late.' 

' We can count on nothing,' I answered. ' There was 
some little steamboat off the depdt, and the fog may lift 
Which is our quickest way ? ' 

' At this tide, a bee-line to Nordemey by compass ; we 
shall have water over all the banks.' 

He had all his preparations made, the lamp lit in 
advance, the compass in position, and we started at once ; 
he at the bow-oar where he had better control over the 



A CHANGE OF TACTICS 248 

boat's nose ; lamp and compass on the floor between us. 
Twilight thickened into darkness — a choking, pasty dark- 
ness — ^and still we sped unfalteringly over that trackless 
waste, sitting and swinging; in our little pool of stifled 
orange light. To drown tatigue and suspense I conned 
over my clues, and tried to carve into my memory every 
fugitive word I had overhead. 

< What are there seven of round here ? ' I called back to 
Davies once (thinking of A to G). * Sorry,' I added, for 
no answer came. 

'I see a star,' was my next word, after a long interval. 
' Now it's gone. There it is again I Bight aft 1 ' 

* That's Borkum light,' said Davies presently ; ' the fog's 
lifting.' 

A keen wind from the west struck our faces, and as 
swiftly as it had come the fog rolled away from us, in one 
mighty mass, stripping clean and pure ^e starry dome of 
heaven, still bright with the western after-glow, and be- 
ginning to redden in the east to the rising moon. 
Norderney light was flashing ahead, and Davies could take 
his tired eyes from the pool of light. 

< Damn 1 ' was all he uttered in the way id gratitude for 
this mercy, and I felt very much the same ; for in a fog 
Davies in a dinghy was a match for a steamer ; in a clear he 
lost his handicap. 

It was a quarter to seven. ' An hour'll do it, if we buck 
up,' he pronounced, after taking a rough bearing with the 
two lights. He pointed out a star to me, which we were to 
keep exactly astern, and again I applied to their labour my 
aching back and smarting palms. 

* What did you say about seven of something ? ' said 
Davies. 

< What are there seven of hereabouts ? ' 

' Islands, of course,' said Davies. < Is that the clue ? ' 

* Maybe.' 

Then followed the most singular of all our confabula- 



244 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

tions. Two memories are better than one, and the sooner I 
carved the cipher into his memory as well as mine the 
better record we should have. So, with rigid economy of 
breath, I snapped out all my story, and answered his breath- 
less questions. It saved me from being mesmerised by the 
star, and both of as from the consciousness of over-fatigue. 
< Spying at Chatham, the blackguard I ' he hissed. 

* What do you make of it ? ' I asked. 

* Nothing about battleships, mines, forts ? ' he said. 
*No/ 

' Nothing about the Ems, Emden, Wilhelmshaven ? ' 
*No.' 

* Nothing about transports ? ' 
'No.' 

'I beUeve — ^I was right — after all — something to do — 
with the channels — ^behind islands.' 

And so that outworn creed took a new lease of life; 
though for my part the words that clashed with it were 
those that had sunk the deepest. 

* Esens,' I protested ; ' that town behind BensersieL' 

' Wassertiefe, Lotsen, Schlepp-boote,' spluttered Davies. 

' Kilometre — Eisenbahn,' from me, and so on. 

I should earn the just execration of the reader if I 
continued to report •such a dialogue. Suffice to say that 
we realised very soon that the substance of the plot was 
still a riddle. On the other hand, there was fresh scent, 
abundance of it; and the question was already taking 
shape— were we to follow it up or revert to last night's 
decision and strike with what weapons we had 9 It was a 
pressing question, too, the last of many— was there to be 
no end to the emergencies of this crowded day ? — ^pressing 
for reasons I could not define, while convinced that we 
must be ready with an answ^ by supper-time to-night. 

Meantime, we were nearing Nordemey; the See Oat 
was crossed, and with the last of the flood tide fair beneath 
OS and the red light on the west pier burning ahead, we 



A CHANGE OF TACTICS 248 

began insensibly to relax oui efforts. But I dared not rest, 
for I was at that point of exhaustion when mechanical 
movement was my only hope. 

* Light astern/ I said thickly. * Two— white and red.' 
'Steamer/ saidDavies; Agoing south though.' 

* Three now.' 

A neat triangle of gems — topaz, ruby, and emerald- 
hung steady behind us. 

* Turned east,' said Davies. * Buck up— steamer from 
Juist. No, by Jove ! too small. What is it ? ' 

On we laboured, while the gems waxed in brilliancy as 
the steamer overhauled us. 

* Easy,' said Davies, * I seem to know those lights — the 
** Blitz's " launch— don't let's be caught rowing like madmen 
in a muck sweat. Paddle in shore a bit.' 

He was right, and, as in a dream, I saw hurrying and 
^pitating up the same little pinnace that had towed us out 
of BensersieL 

'We're done for now,' I remember thinUng, for the 
guilt of the runaway was strong in me ; and an old remark of 
von Briining's about 'police' was in my ears. But she 
was level with and past us before I could sink far into 
despair. 

* Three of them behind the hood,' said Davies ; ' what 
are we to do ? ' 

' Follow,' I answered, and essayed a feeble stroke, but 
the blade scuttered over the surface. 

' Let's wait about for a bit,' said Davies. ' We're late 
anyhow. If they go to the yacht they'll think we're 
ashore.' 

* Our shore clothes — ^lying about.' 
' Are you up to talking ? ' 

'No; but we must. The least suspidon'll do for us 
now.' 

< Give me your scull, old chap, and put on your coat.' 
He extinguished the lantern, lit a pipe, and then rowed 



246 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

slowly on, while I sat on a slack heap in the stem and 
devoted my last resonroes of will to the emancipation of 
the spirit from the tired flesh. 

In ten minutes or so we were rounding the pier, and 
there was the yacht's top-mast against the sky. I saw too 
that the launch was alongside of her, and told Davies so. 
Then I lit a cigarette, and made a lamentable effort to 
whistle. Davies followed suit, and emitted a strange melody 
which I took to be * Home, sweet home,' but he has not the 
slightest ear for music. 

* Why, they're on board, I bdieve,' said I ; 'the cabin's 
lighted. Ahoy there ! ' I shouted as we came up. ' Who's 
that?' 

* Good evening, Sir,' said a sailor, who was fending off 
the yacht with a boathook. ' It's Commander von Bruning's 
launch. I think the gentlemen want to see you.' 

Before we could answer, an exclamation of : ' Why, here 
they are 1 ' came from the deck of the ' Dulcibella,' and the 
dim form of von Briining himself emerged from the com- 
panionway. There was something of a scuffle down below, 
which the Commander nearly succeeded in drowning by the 
breeziness of his greeting. Meanwhile, the ladder creaked 
under fresh weight and Dollmann appeared. 

< Is that you, Herr Davies ? ' he said. 

^ Hullo I Herr Dollmann,' said Davies, ' how are you ? * 

I must explain that we had floated up between the 
yacht and the launch whose sailors had passed her a little 
aside in order to give us room. Her starboard side-light 
was just behind and above us, pouring its green rays 
obHquely over the deck of the ' Dulcibella,' while we and the 
dinghy were in deep shadow between. The most studied 
calculation could not have secured us more favourable 
conditions for a mom^it which I had always dreaded, the 
meeting of Davies and Dollmann. The former, having 
shortened his sculls, just sat where he was, half turned 
towards the yacht and looking up at his enemy. No 



flan 



A CHANGE OP TACTICS 247 

lineament of his own face could have been visible to the 
latter while those pitiless green rays — ^you know their 
ravaging effect on the human physiognomy — struck full on 
Dollmann's face. It was my first fair view of it at close 
quarters, and, secure in my background of gloom, I feasted 
with a luxury of superstitious abhorrence on the livid 
smiling mask that for a few moments stooped peering down 
towards Davies. One of the caprices of the crude light 
was to obliterate, or at any rate so penetrate, beard and 
moustache, as to reveal in outline lips and chin, the features 
in which defects of character are most surely betrayed, 
especially when your victim smiles. Accuse me, if you will, 
of stooping to melodramatic embroidery ; object that my 
own prejudiced fancy contributed to the result ; but I 

, nevertheless, never e&ce the impression of malignant 
perfidy and base passion exaggerated to caricature, that I 
received in those few instants. Another caprice of the light 
was to identify the man with the portrait of him, when 
younger and clean-shaven, in the frontispiece of his own 
book ; and another still, the most repulsively whimsical of 
all, was to call forth a strong resemblance to the sweet 
young girl who had been with us yesterday. 

Enough 1 I shall never offend again in this way. 
In reality I am much more inclined to laugh than shudder 
over this meeting ; for meanwhile the third of our self- 
invited guests had with stertorous puffing risen to the stage, 
for all the world like a demon out of a trapdoor, specially 
when he entered the zone of that unearthly light. And 
there they stood in a row like delinquents at judgment, 
while we, the true culprits, had only passively to accept ex- 
planations. Of course these were plausible enough. Dollmann 
having seen the yacht in port that morning had called on 
his return from Memmert to ask us to supper. Finding no 
one aboard, and concluding we were ashore, he had meant 
to leave a note for Davies in the cabin. His friend Herr 
Bohme, ' the. distinguished engineer/ was anxious to see over 



us THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

ihe little YeBsel that had oome so far, and he knew that 
DaTies would not mind the intrusion. Not at all, said 
Davies; would not they stop and haTe drinks? No, bat 
would we oome to supper at DoUmann's villa? With 
pleasure, said Davies, but we had to change first. Up to 
this point we had been masters of the situation ; but here 
von Bruning, who alone of the three appeared to be 
entirely at his ease, made the retour offensif. 

^ Where have you been? ' he asked« 

^ Oh, rowing about since the fog cleared,' said Davies. 

I suppose he thought that evasion would pass muster, 
but as hQ spoke, I noticed to my horror that a stray beam of 
light was playing on the bunch of white cotton-waste that 
adorned one of the rowlocks; for we had forgotten to 
remove these tell-tale appendages. So I added : 

* After ducks again ; ' and, lifting one of the guns, let the 
light flash on its barreL To my own ears my voice sounded 
husky and distant. 

< Always ducks,' laughed von Briining. 'No luck, I 
suppose ? ' 

* No,' said Davies ; * but it ought to be a good time after 
Bimset ' 

* What, with a rising tide and the banks covered ? * 
'We saw some,' said Davies sullenly. 

'I tell you what, my zealous young sportsmen, you're 
rash to leave your boat at anchor here after dark without a 
light. I came aboard to find your lamp and set ii' 

' Oh, thanks,' said Davies ; 'we took it with us.' 

'To see to shoot by? ' 

We laughed uncomfortably, and Davies compassed a 
wonderful German phrase to the effect that ' it might come 
in usefuL' Happily the matter went no further, for the 
position was a strained one at the best, and would not bear 
lengthening. The launch went alongside, and the invaders 
evacuated British soil, looking, for all von Bruning's 
flippant nonchalance^ a rather crestfallen party. So much 



A CHANGE OP TACTICS 849 

00, that, acute as was my anxiety, I took oonrage to whisper 
to Davies, while the transhipment of Herr Bdhme was 
proceeding : < Ask Dollmann to stay while we dress.' 

* Why ? ' he whispered. 

* Go on/ 

'I say, Herr Dollmann/ said Davies, 'won't yon stay 
on board with us while we dress? There's a lot to teU 
you, and — ^and we can follow on with you when we're 
ready.' 

Dollmann had not yet stepped into the launch. 

' With pleasure,' he said ; but there followed an ominous 
silence, broken by von Briining. 

' Oh, come along, Dollmann, and let them alone,' he 
said, brusquely. 'You'll be horribly in the way down 
there, and we shall never get any supper if you keep them 
yarning.' 

* And it's now a quarter past eight o'clock,' grumbled 
Herr Bohme from his corner behind the hood. Dollmann 
submitted and excused himself, and the launch steamed 
away. 

'I think I twig,' said Davies, as he helped, almost 
hoisted, me aboard. * Bather risky, though — eh? ' 

* I knew they'd object— only wanted to make sure.' 
The cabin was just as we had left it, our shore- 

olothes lying in disorder on the bunks, a locker or two 
half open. 

< Well, I wonder what they did down here,' said Davies. 

For my part I went straight to the bookshelf. 

'Does anything strike you about this?' I asked,^ 
kneeling on the sofa. 

'Logbook's shifted,' said Davies. 'I'll swear it was 
at the end before.' 

' That doesn't matter. Anything else ? ' 

' By Jove I — where's DoUmann's book ? ' 

'It's here all right, but not where it should be.' 
I had been reading it, you remember, overnight, and 



260 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

in the morniiig had replaced it in fall view among the 
other books. I now found it behind them, in a wrenched 
attitude, which showed that some one who had no time to 
spare had pushed it roughly inwards. 

' What do you make of that ? ' said Davies. 

He produced long drinks, and we allowed ourselves 
ten minutes of absolute rest, stretched at full length on the 
sofas. 

' They don't trust DoUmann,' I said ; < I spotted that at 
Memmert even.' 

'How?' 

* First, when they were talking about you and me. He 
was on his defence, and in a deuce of a funk too. Bohme 
was pressing him hard. Again, at the end, when he left 
the room followed by Grimm, who I'm certain was sent to 
watch him. It was while he was away that the other 
two arranged that rendezvous for the night of the 25th. 
And again just now, when you asked him to stay. I 
believe it's working out as I thought it would. Von 
Briining, and through him Bdhme (who is the * engineer 
from Bremen'), know the story of the short cut and 
suspect that it was an attempt on your life. Dollmann 
daren't confess to that, because, morality apart, it could 
only have been prompted by extreme necessity, that is, 
by the knowledge that you were really dangerous and not 
merely an inquisitive stranger. Now we know his motive ; 
but they don't yet. The position of that book proves it.' 

* He shoved it in ? ' 

* To prevent them seeing it. There's no earthly reason 
why they should have hidden it.' 

'Then we're getting on,' said Davies. 'That shows 
they know his real name, or why should he shove the book 
in ? But they don't know he wrote a book, and that I have 
a copy.' 

' At any rate he thinks they don't ; we can't say more 
than that.' 



A CHANGE OP TACTICS 261 

^ And what does he think about me — and you ? ' 

'That's the point. Ten to one he's in tortures of 
doubt, and would give a fortune to have five minutes' talk 
alone with you to see how the land lies and get your 
version of the short cut incident. But they won't let him. 
They want to watch him in our company and us in his ; 
you see it's an interesting reunion for you and him.' 

'Well, let's get into these beastly clothes for it/ 
groaned Davies. 'I shall have a plunge overboard.' 
Something drastic was required, and I followed his example, 
curious as the hour was for bathing. 

' I believe I know what happened just now,' said I, as 
we plied rough towels in the warmth below. 'They 
steamed up and found nobody on board. "I'll leave a 
note," says Dollmann. "No independent communica- 
tions," say they (or think they), " we'll come too, and take 
the chance of inspecting this hornets' nest." Down they 
go, and Dollmann, who knows what to look for first, sees 
that damning bit of evidence staring him in the face. 
They look casually at the shelf among other things — 
examine the logbook, say — and he manages to push his 
own book out of sight. But he couldn't replace it when 
the interruption came. The action would have attracted 
attention thetif and Bi^hme made him leave the cabin in 
advance, you know.' 

'This is all very well,' said Davies, pausing in his 
toilet, ' but do they guess how we've spent the day ? By 
Jove 1 Carruthers, that chart with the square cut out ; 
there it is on the rack ! ' 

' We must chance it, and bluff for all we're worth,' I 
said. The fact was that Davies could not be brought to 
realise that he had done anything very remarkable that 
day ; yet those fourteen sinuous miles traversed blindfold, 
to say nothing of the return journey and my own exploits, 
made up an achievement audacious and improbable enough 
to out-distance suspicion. Nevertheless, von Briining's 



r 



S5S THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

banter had been disquieting, and if an inkling of onv 
expedition had crossed his mind or theirs, there were ways 
of testing us which it would require all our efficontery to 
defeat. 

' What are you looking for ? ' said Davies. I was at 
the collar and stud stage, but had broken off to study the 
time-table which we had boi^^ht that morning. 

'Somebody insists on coming by the night train to 
somewhere^ on the 25th, I reminded him. Bohme, yon 
Briining and Orimm are to meet the Somebody.' 

* Where?' 

' At a railway station ; I don't know where. They 
seemed to take it for granted. But it must be somewhere 
on the sea, because Bdhme said, '' the tide serves." ' 

' It may be anywhere from Emden to Hamburg.' * 

'No, there's a limit; it's probably somewhere near. 
Grimm was to come, and he's at Memmert.' 

' Here's the map. . . . Emden and Norddeich are the 
only coast stations till you get to Wilhelmshaven — ^no, to 
Carolinensiel ; but those are a long way east.' 

'And Emden's a long way south. Say Norddeich 
then; but according to this there's no train there after 
6.15 p.m; that's hardly "night." When's high tide on 
the 25th ? ' 

'Let's see— 8.80 here to-night — ^Norddeich'U be the 
same. Somewhere between 10.80 and 11 on the 25th.' 

' There's a train at Emden at 9.22 from Leer and the 
south, and one at 10.50 from the north.' 

'Are you counting on another fog?' said Davies, 
mockingly. 

' No ; but I want to know what our plans are.' 

' Can't we wait till this cursed inspection's over ? ' 

' No, we can't ; we should come to grief.' This was no 
barren truism, for I was ready with a plan of my own 
though reluctant to broach it to Davies. 

' See Map at page 141. 



\ 



A CHANGE OF TACTICS 258 

Meanwhile, ready or not, we had to start. The cabin 
we left as it was, changing nothing and hiding nothing ; 
the safest course to take, we thought, in spite of the risk 
of further search. But, as usual, I transferred my diary 
to my breast-pocket, and made sure that the two offidiJ 
letters from England were safe in a compartment of it. 

' What do you propose ? ' I asked, when we were in the 
dinghy again. 

* It's a case of " as you were," ' said Dayies. ' To-day's 
trip was a chance we shall never get again. We must go 
back to last night's decision — tell them that we're going 
to stay on here for a bii Shooting, I suppose we shall 
have to say.' 

' And courling ? ' I suggested. 

'Well, they know all about that. And then we must 
watch for a chance of tackling DoUmann privately. Not 
to-night, because we want time to consider those clues of 
yours.' 

* « Consider " ? ' I said ; * that's putting it mildly.' 

We were at the ladder, and what a languid stifiFhess 
oppressed me I did not know till I touched its freezing 
rungs, each one of which seared my sore palms like red-hot 
iron. 

The overdue steamer was just arriving as we set foot on 
the quay. 

' And yet, by Jove I why not to-night ? ' resumed Davies, 
beginning to stride up tiie pier at a pace I could not 
imitate. 

'Steady on,' I protested; 'and, look here, I disagree 
altogether. I believe to-day has doubled our chances, but 
unless we alter our tactics it has doubled our risks. We've 
involved ourselves in too tangled a web. I don't like 
this inspection, and I fear that foxy old Bdhme who 
prompted it. The mere fact of their inviting us shows that 
we stand badly; for it runs in the teeth of Brnning's 
warning at Bensersiel, and smells uncommonly like artesi 



/ 



254 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

There's a rift between DoUmann and the others, but it's a 
ticklish matter to drive onr wedge in ; as to to-night, hope- 
less ; they're on the watch, and won't give as a chance. 
And after all, do we know enough ? We don't know why he 
fled from England and turned German. It may have been 
for an extraditable crime, but it may not. Supposing he 
defies us ? There's the girl, you see — she ties our hands, 
and if he once gets wind of that, and trades on our weak- 
ness, the game's up.' 

'What are you driving at? ' 

^We want to detach him from Germany, but he'll 
probably go to any lengths rather than abandon his position 
here. His attempt on you is the measure of his interest in 
it. Now, is to-day to be wasted?' We were passing 
through the public gardens, and I dropped on to a seat for a 
moment's rest, crackling dead leaves under me. Davies 
remained standing, and pecked at the gravel with his toe. 

'We have got two valuable dues,' I went on; 'that 
rendezvous on the 25th is one, and the name Esens is the 
other. We may consider them to eternity ; I vote we act 
on them.' 

'How?' said Davies. 'We're under a search-light 
here ; and if we're caught ' 

' Tour plan — ^ugh 1 — is as risky as mine, and more so,* 
I replied, rising with a jerk, for a spasm of cramp took me. 
' We must separate,' I added, as we walked on. ' We want, 
at one stroke, to prove to them that we're harmless, and to 
get a fresh start. I go back to London.' 

' To London ! ' said Davies. We were passing under an 
arc lamp, and, for the dismay his face showed I might have 
said Kamschatka. 

Well, after all it's where I ought to be at this moment,' 
I observed. 

' Yes, 1 forgot. And me ? ' 

' Tou can't get on without me, so you lay up the yacht 
here —taking your time.' 



A CHANGE OF TACTICS 266 

*Whileyou ?' 

* After making inquiries about Dollmann's past I doable 
back as somebody else, and follow up the clues.' 

' Tou'll have to be quick,' said Davies abstractedly. 

'I can just do it in time for the 25th.' 
When you say ''making inquiries,"' he continued, 
looking straight before him, * I hope you don't mean setting 
other people on his track.' 

' He's fair game ! ' I could not help saying ; for there 
were moments when I chafed under this scrupulous fidelity 
to our self-denying ordinance. 

' He's our game, or nobody's,' said Davies sharply. 

' Oh, I'll keep the secret,' I rejoined. 

' Let's stick together,' he broke out. ' I shall make a 
muck of it without you. And how are we to communicate 
—meet ? ' 

' Somehow — that can wait. I know it's a leap in the 
dark, but there's safety in darkness.' 

< Carrut^SIS I what are we talking about ? If they have 
the ghost of a notion where we have been to-day, you give 
us away by packing off to London. They'll think we know 
their secret and are clearing out to make use of it. That 
means arrest, if you like ! ' 

* Pessimist 1 Haven't I written proof of good faith in 
my pocket — official letters of recall, received to-day ? It's 
one deception the less, you see ; for those letters may have 
been opened ; skilfully done it's impossible to detect. When 
in doubt, tell the truth ! ' 

'It's a rum thing how often it pays in this spying 
business,' said Davies thoughtfully. 

We had been tramping through deserted streets under 
the glare of electricity, I with my leaden shuffle, he with 
the purposeful forward stoop and swinging arms that always 
marked his gait ashore. 

' Well, what's it to be ?' I said. ' Here's the Schwann- 
lOl^e.' 



t56 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

* I don't like it,' said he ; ' but I trost your judgment.* 

We tamed dowly down, running OTor a few last points 
where prior agreement was eeaential. As we stood at the 
very gate of the villa : * Don't commit yoorself to dates/ 
I saidy ' say nothing that will prevent yon from being here 
at least a week henoe with the yaoht still afloat' And my 
final word, as we waited at the door for the bell to be 
answered, was : * Don't mind what I say. If things look 
qoeer we may have to lighten the ship.' 

'lighten?' whispered Davies; 'oh, I hope I sha'n't 
boshii' 

' I hope I sha*n't get orampi' I muttered between my 
teeth. 

It will be remembered that Davies had never been to 
the villa before. 



257 



CHAPTEB XXIV 

FINESSB 

The door of a room on the ground floor was opened to ua 
by a man-servant. As we entered the rattle of a piano 
stopped, and a hot wave of mingled scent and cigar smoke 
struck my nostrils. The first thing I noticed over Davies's 
shoulder, as he preceded me into the room, was a woman — 
the source of the perfume I decided — turning round from 
the piano as he passed it and staring him up and down 
with a disdainful familiarity that I at once hotly resented. 
She was in evening dress, pronounced in cut and colour ; 
had a certain exuberant beauty, not wholly ascribable to 
nature, and a notable lack of breeding. Another glance 
showed me Dollmann putting down a liqueur glass of 
brandy, and rising from a low chair with something of a 
start ; and another, von Bruning, lying back in a corner of 
a sofa, smoking ; on the same sofa, vis-d-vis to him, was — 
yes, of course it was — Clara Dollmann; but how their 
surroundings alter people, I caught myself thinking. For 
the rest, I was aware that the room was furnished with 
ostentation, and was BtuSj with stove-engendered warmth. 
Davies steered a straight course for Dollmann, and shook 
his hand with businesslike resolution. Then he tacked 
across to the sofa, abandoning me in the &ce of thia enemy. 

' Mr. ? ' said Dollmann. 

< Carruthers,' I answered distinctly. * I was with Davies 
in the boat just now, but I don't think he introduced me. 
And now he has forgotten again,' I added dryly, turning 

8 



S58 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

towards DavieB, who, haying preeented himself to Fr&nlein 
DoUxnann, was looking feebly from her to von Bruning, 
tiiie picture of tongue-tied awkwardness. (The Commands 
nodded to me and stretched himself with a yawn.) 

'Von Bruning told me about you/ said Dollmann, 
ignoring my allusion, 'but I was not quite sure of the 
name. No ; it was not an occasion for formalities^ was it? ' 
He gave a sudden mirthless laugh. I thought him flushed 
and excitable ; yet, seen in a normal light, he was in soma 
respects a pleasant surprise, the remarkable conformation 
of the head giving an impression of intellectual power and 
restless, almost insanely restless, energy. 

' What need? ' I said. ' I have heard so much about 
you from Davies — and Commander von Bruning — that we 
seem to be old friends already.' 

He shot a doubtful look at me^ and a diversion came 
from the piano. 

'And now, for heaven's sake,' oried the lady of the 
perfume, ' let us join Herr Bohme at supper ! ' 

* Let me present you to my wife,' said DoUmann. 

So this was the stepmother ; unmistakably German, I 
mi^yadd. 

I made my bow, md underwent much the same sort of 
frank scrutiny as Davies, only that it was rather more 
favourable to me, and ended in a carmine smile. 

There was a general movement, and further introduc- 
tions. Davies was led to the stepmother, and I found 
myself confronting the daughter with quickened pulses, and 
a sudden sense of added complexity in the issues. I bad of 
course made up my mind to ignore our meeting of yesterday, 
and had assumed that she would do the same. And she 
did ignore it — ^we met as utter strangers ; nor did I venture 
(for other eyes were upon us) to transmit any sign of in- 
telligence to her. But the next moment I was wondering 
if I had not fallen into a trap. She had promised not to 
tell, but under what circumstances? I saw the scene 



FINESSE 259 

ftgain; the misty flats, the spruce little sail-boat and its 
sweet young mistress, fresh as a dewy flower, but blanched 
imd demoralised by a horrid fear, appealing to my honour 
to so act that we three should never meet again, promising 
to be silent, but as much in her own interest as ours, and 
under that implied condition which I had only equivocally 
refused. The condition was violated, not by her fault or 
ours, but violated. She was free to help her father against 
us, and was she helping him ? What troubled me was the 
change in her; that she — how can I express it without 
ofbnce ? — was less in discord with her surroundings than 
she should have been ; that in dress, pose, and manner (as 
we exchanged some trivialities) she was too near reflecting 
the style of the other woman, that in fact she in some sort 
realised my original conception of her, so brutally avowed 
to Davies, so signally, as I had thought, falsified. In the 
sick perplexity that this discovery caused me I dare say I 
looked as foolish as Davies had done, and more so, for the 
close heat of the room and its tainted atmosphere, succeed- 
ing so abruptly to the wholesome nip of the outside air, 
were giving me a faintness which this moral check lessened 
my power to combat. Von Briining's face wore a sneering 
smile that I winced under ; and turning I found another 
pair of eyes flxed on me, those of Herr Bohme whose squat 
figure had appeared at a pair of folding doors leading to an 
adjoining room. Napkin in hand he was taking in the 
scene before him with fat benevolence, but exceeding 
shrewdness. I instantly noticed a faint red weal relieving 
the ivory of his bald head ; and I had suffered too often in 
the same quarter myself to mistake its origin, namely, our 
cabin doorway. 

'This is the other young explorer, Bohme,* said von 
Briining. 'Herr Davies kidnapped him a month ago, 
and bullied and starved him into submission; they'll 
drown together yet. I believe his sufierings have been 
terrible/ 

89 



260 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' His suffenngs are over,' I letorted. 'I've matinied — 
deserted — haven't I, Davies?' I caught Dayies gazing 
with solemn gcmcherie at Miss Dollmann. 

<0h, ^hat?' he stammered. I explained in English. 
' Oh, yes, Garrathers has to go home,' he said, in his yile 
lingo. 

No one spoke for a moment, and even von Bruning had 
no persiflage ready. 

' Well, are we never going to have supper ? ' said Madame, 
impatiently ; and with that we all moved towards the folding 
doors. There had been little formality in the proceedings 
so far, and there was less still in the supper-room. Bohme 
resumed his repast with appetite, and the rest of us sat 
down apparently at random, though an underlying method 
was discernible. As it worked out, Dollmann was at one 
end of the small table, with Davies on his right and Bohme 
on his left ; Frau Dollmann at the other, with me on her 
right and von Bruning on her left. The seventh personage, 
Fr&ulein Dollmann, was between the Commander and Davies 
on the side opposite to me. No servants appeared, and we 
waited on ourselves. I have a vague recollection of various 
excellent dishes, and a distinct one of abundance of wine. 
Someone filled me a glass of champagne, and I confess that 
I drained it with honest avidity, blessing the craftsman who 
coaxed forth the essence, the fruit that harboured it, the 
sun that warmed it. 

' Why are you going so suddenly ? ' said von Bruning 
to me across the table. 

' Didn't I tell you we had to call here for letters? I 
got mine this morning, and among others a summons back 
to work Of course I must obey.' (I found myself speak- 
ing in a frigid silence). 'The annoying thing was that 
there were two letters, and if I had only come here two 
days sooner I should have only got the first, which gave 
me an extension.' 

* You are very conscientious. How will they know ? ' 



FINESSE S61 

'Ahy bat the second's rather urgent/ There was 
another uncomfortable silence, broken by Dollmann. 

'By the way, Herr Davies,' he began, 'I ought to 
apologise to you for * 

This was no business of mine, and the less interest I 
took in it the better ; so I turned to Frau Dollmann and 
abused the fog. 

' Have you been in the harbour all day ? ' she asked ; 
' then how was it you did not visit us ? Was Herr Davies 
so shy ? ' (Curiosity or malice ?) 

' Quite tibe contrary ; but I was,' I answered coldly ; 
'you see, we knew Herr Dollmann was away, and we 
really only called here to get my letters ; besides, we did 
not know your address.' I looked at Clara and found her 
talking gaily to von Bruning, deaf seemingly to o^ir little 
dialogue. 

' Anyone would have told you it,' said Madame, raising 
her eyebrows. 

' I dare say ; but directly after breakfast the fog came 
on, and — ^well, one cannot leave a yacht alone in a fog,' I 
said, with professional solidity. 

Von Brumng pricked up his ears at this. 'I'll be 
hanged if that was ycmr maxim,' he laughed ; ' you're too 
fond of the shore I ' 

I sent him a glance of protest, as though to say: 
' What's the use of your warning if you won't let me act 
on it?' 

For of course my excuses were meant chiefly for his 
consumption and Fraulein Dollmann's. That the lady I 
addressed them to found them unpalatable was not my 
fault. I 

' Then you sat in your wretched little cabin all day ? ' 
she persisted. 

' All day,' I said, brazenly ; ' it was the safest thing to 
do.' And I looked again at Fraulein Dollmann frankly and 
squarely. Our eyes met, and she dropped hers instantly, 



268 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

but not before I had learnt something ; for if ever I saw 
misery under a mask it was on her face. No ; she had 
not told. 

I think I puzzled the stepmother, who shmgged her 
white shoulders, and said in that case she wondered we had 
dared to leave our precious boat and come to supper. If 
we knew Frisian fogs as well as she did 

Oh, I explained, we were not so nervous as that ; and 
as for supper on shore, if she only knew what a Spartan 
life we led 

* Oh, for mercy's sake, don't tell me about it I ' she 
cried with a grimace ; ' I hate the mention of yachts. When 
I think of that dreadful " Medusa " coming from Ham- 
burg * I sympathised with half my attention, keeping 

one strained ear open for developments on my right. 
Davies, I knew, was in the thick of it, and none too happy 
under Bohme's eye, but working manfully. ' My fault ' — 
' sudden squall ' — ' quite safe,' were some of the phrases I 
caught; whileIwasaware,tomy alarm, that he was actually 
drawing a diagram of something with bread-crumbs and 
table-knives. The subject seemed to gutter out to an 
awkward end, and suddenly Bohme, who was my right- 
hand neighbour, turned to me. 'You are starting for 
England to-morrow morning ? ' he said. 

* Yes,' I answered ; ' there is a steamer at 6.15, 1 believe.* 

* That is good. We shall be companions.' 

' Are you going to England too, sir ? ' I asked, with hot 
misgivings. 

' No, no t I am going to Bremen ; but we shall travel 
together as far as — ^you go by Amsterdam, I suppose? — 
as far as Leer, then. That will be very pleasant.' I 
fancied there was a ghoulish gusto in his tone. 

' Very,' I assented. ' You am making a short stay here^ 
then?' 

' As long as usual. I visit the work at Memmert once 
a month or so, spend a night with my friend DoUmann 



FINESSE 268 

and his ohanning family' (he leered zound him), 'and 
return.* 

Whether I was right or wrong in my next step I shall 
never know, but obeying a strong instinct, 'Memmert,' I 
said, ' do tell me more about Memmert. We heard a good 
deal about it from Conmiander yon Briining ; but ' 

' He was discreet, I expect,* said Bohme. 

' He left off at the most interesting part.* 

* What's that about me ? * joined in von Bruning. 

'I was saying that we*re dying to know more about 
Menmiert, aren't we, Davies ? ' 

* Oh, I don't know,* said Davies, evidently aghast at 
my temerity ; but I did not mind that. If he roughed my 
suit, so much the better ^ I intended to rough hid. 

'You gave us plenty of history. Commander, but you 
did not bring it up to date.* The triple alliance laughed, 
DoUmann boisterously. 

*Well?* said von Bruning; *I gave you vwry good 
reasons, and you acquiesced.* 

' And now he is trying to pump me,* said Bohme, with 
his rasping chuckle. 

* Wait a bit, sir ; I have an excuse. The Commander 
was not only mysterious but inaccurate. I appeal to you, 
Herr DoUmann, for it was d propos of you. When we fell 
in with him at Bensersiel, Davies asked him if you were at 
home, and he said "No.** When would you be back? 
Probably soon ; but he did not know when,* 

' Oh, he said that,* said DoUmann. 

' WeU, only three days later we arrive at Nordemey, and 
find you have returned that very day, but have gone to 
Memmert. Again (by the way) the myliterious Memmert I 
But more than ever mysterious now, for in the evening, not 
only you and Herr Bohme ' 

' What penetration ! * laughed von Bruning. 

' But also Commander von Briining, pay us a visit in 
fcis launch, aU coming from Memmert 1 * 



2M THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

' And you infer f ' said yon Brtbing. 

* Why, that you must have known at BensorsiQl — only 
three days ago — exactly when Herr DoUmann was coming 
back, having an appointment with him at Memmert for 
to-day/ 

* Which I wished to conceal from yon ? * 

'Yes, and that's why I'm so inquisitive; it's entirely 
yonr own fault.' 

'So it seems,' said he, with mock humiHty ; 'but fill 
yonr glass and go on, young man. Why should I want to 
deceive you ? ' 

' That's just what I want to know. Gome, confess now ; 
wasn't there something important afoot to-day at Memmert? 
Something to do with the gold ? You were inspecting it, 
sorting it, weighing it ? Or J know I You were transport- 
ing it secretly to the mainland ? ' 

'Not a very good day for that! But, softly, Herr 
Garruthers ; no fishing for admissions. Who said we had 
found any gold ? ' 

' Well, have you > There T 

'That's better I Nothing like candour, my young 
investigator. But I am afraid, having no authority, I 
cannot assist you at alL Better try Herr Bohme again. 
I'm only a casual onlooker.' 

' With shares.' 

'Ah I you remember that? (He remembers every- 
thing!) With a few shares, then; but with no expeort 
knowledge. Now Bdhme is the consulting engineer. 
Bescue me, Bohme I ' 

' I cannot disclaim expert knowledge,' said Bohme, with 
humorous gravity; 'but I disclaim responsibility. Now, 
Herr DoUmann is chairman of the company.' 

'And I,' said Dollmann, with a noisy laugh, 'must 
fall back on the shareholders, whose interests I have 
to guard. One can't be too careful in these confidential 
matters.' 



FINESSE 265 

' Here's one who gives his consent,' I said. ' Can't he 
represent the rest ? ' 

' Extorted by torture,' said von Bruning. ' I retract.' 

'Don't mind them, Herr Carruthers,' cried Fran 
DoUmann, ' they are making fan of you ; but I will give 
you a hint : no woman can keep a secret — ^' 

' Ah 1 ' I cried triumphantly, ' you have been there ? ' 

'I? Not I; I detest the sea! But Clara has.' 
Everyone looked at Clara, who in her turn looked in naive 
bewilderment from me to her father. 

' Indeed ? ' I said, more soberly ; ' but perhaps she is not 
a free agent.' 

'Perfectly free t ' said Dollmann. 

' I have only been there once, some time ago,' said she, 
'and I saw no gold at all.' 

' Guarded,' I observed. 'I beg your pardon ; I mean 
that perhaps you only saw what you were allowed to 
see. And, in any case, the Fraulein has no expert know- 
ledge and no responsibility, and, perhaps, no shares. 
Her province is to be charming, not to hold financial 
secrets.' 

' I have done my best to help you,' said the stepmother. 

' They're all against us, Davies.' 

' Oh, chuck it, Carruthers I ' said Davies, in English. 

'He's insatiable,' said von Bruning, and there was a 
pause ; clearly, they meant to elicit more. 

' Well, I shall draw my own conclusions,' I said. 

'This is interesting,' said von Bruning, 'in what 
sense ? ' 

' It's beginning to dawn oti me that you made fools of 
ns at BensersieL Don't you remember, Davies, what an 
interest he took in all our doings ? I wonder if he feared 
our exploring propensities might possibly lead us to 
Memmert ? ' 

'Upon my word, this is the blackest ingratitude. I 
thought I made myself particularly agreeable to you.* 



^ 



see THE BIDDLS OF THE SANDS 

'YeSt indeed; especially about the dack-shooting I 
How useful your local man would have been — both to us 
and to you ! ' 

* Oo on,' said the Commander imperturbably. 

* Wait a moment ; I'm thinking it out.' And thinking 
it out I was in deadly earnest, for all my levity, as I pressed 
my hand on my burning forehead and asked myself where 
I was to stop in this seductive but perilous fraud. To 
carry it too far was to court complete exposure ; to stop too 
soon was equally compromising. 

* What is he talUng about, and why go on with this 
ridiculous mystery ? ' said Frau Dollmann. 

'I was thinking about this supper-party, and the way it 
came about,' I pursued slowly. 

* Nothing to complain of, I hope ? ' said DoUmann. 

* Of course not 1 Impromptu parties are always the 
pleasantest, and this one was delightfully impromptu. 
Now I bet you I know its origin I Didn't you discuss us 
at Memmert? And didn't one of you suggest ' 

'One would almost think you had been there,' said 
Dollmium. 

'You may thank your vile climate that we didn't^' 
I retorted, laughing. ' But, as I was saying, didn't one of 
you suggest — ^which of you? — ^well, I'm sure it wasn't the 
Commander ' 

'Why not? ' said Bohme. 

'It's difficult to explain — an intuition, say — ^I am sure 
he stood up for us ; imd I don't think it was Herr Doll- 
mann, because he knows Davies already, and he's always 
on the spot ; and, in short, I'll swear it was Herr Bohme, 
who is leaving early to-morrow, and had never seen either 
of us. It was you, sir, who proposed that we should be 
asked to supper to-night — for inspection? ' 

'Inspection?' said Bohme, 'what an extraordinary 
ideal' 

' You can't deny it, though I And, one thing more ; ia 



FINESSE 267 

the harbonr just now — no — this is going too far ; I shall 
mortally offend you/ I gave way to hearty laughter. 

'Gome, let's faaye it all. Your halludnations are 
diverting.' 

'If yon insist; but this is rather a deh'cate matter. 
You know we were a little surprised to find you all on 
board ; and you, Herr Bdhme, did you always take such a 
deep interest in small yachts ? I am afraid that it was at 
a certain sacrifice of comfort that you inspected ours t * 
And I glanced at the token he bore of his encounter with our 
lintel. There was a burst of pent-up merriment, in which 
Dollmann took the loudest share. 

' I warned you, Bdhme,' he said. The engineer took 
the joke in the best possible psurt. 

* We owe you apologies,' he conceded. 
'Don't mention it,' said Davies. 

^He doesn't mind,' I said, 'I'm the injured one. I'm 
sure you never suspected Davies, who could ? ' (Who 
indeed 7 1 was on firm ground there.) ' The point is, what 
did you take me tor?* 

* Perhaps we take you for it still,' said von Bruning. 
'Oho! Still suspicious? Don't drive me to extre- 
mities ? 

' What extremities f * 

* When I get back to London I shall go to Lloyd's t 
I haven't forgotten that flaw in the title.' There was 
an impressive silence. 

' Gentlemen,' said Dollmann, with exaggerated solemnityi 
* we must come to terms with this formidable young man. 
What do you say ? ' 

' Take me to Memmert,' I exclaimed. ' Those are my 
terms 1' 

'Take you to Memmert? But I thought you were 
starting for England to-morrow ? ' 

'I ought to ; but I'll stay for that.' 

'You said it was urgent. Your conscience is very elastic* 



868 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

* That's my affiuc Will you take me to Memmert f ' 

' What do you say, gentlemen ? ' Bohme nodded. * 1 
think we owe some repaiation. Under promise of absolute 
seoreoy then?' 

* Of course, now that you trust me. But you'll show 
me everything — ^honour bright — ^wreok, depot, and all ? ' 

' Everything ; if you don't object to a diver's dress.' 

' Victory 1 ' I cried in triumph. * We've won our point, 
Davies. And now^ gentlemen, I don't mind saying that 
as far as I am concerned the joke's at end ; and, in spite of 
your kind ofTer, I must start for England to-morrow under 
the good Herr Bohme's wing. And in case my elastic 
conscience troubles you (for I see you think me a weather- 
cock) here are the letters I received this morning, establish- 
ing my identity as a humble but respectable clerk in the 
British Civil Service, sunmioned away from his holiday by 
a tyrannical superior ' (I pulled out my letters and tossed 
them to Dollmann). ' Ah, you don't read English easilyi 
perhaps ? I dare say Herr Bohme does.' 

Leaving Bohme to study dates, postmarks, and contents 
to his heart's content and unobserved, I turned to sympa- 
thise with my fair neighbour, who complained that her 
head was going round; and no wonder. But at this 
juncture, and very much to my surprise, Davies struck in. 

'J should like to go to Memmert,' he said. 

* You f ' said von Briining. ' Now, I'm surprised at that.' 
'But you won't be staying here either, Davies,' I 

objected. 

' Yes, I shall,' said Davies. ' Why I told you I should. 
If you leave me in the lurch like this I must have time to 
look round.' 

* You needn't pretend that you cannot sail alone,' said 
von Bruning. 

' It's much more fun with two ; I think I shall wire 
for another friend. Meanwhile, I should like to see 
Memmert.' 



FINESSE S69 

'That's only an excuse, I'm afraid,' said I. 

' I want to shoot dnoks too,' pursued Davies, reddening. 
* I always have wanted to ; and you promised to help in 
that, Commander,' 

* You can't get out of it now,' I laughed. 

'Certainly not,' said he unmoved; 'but, honestly, I 
should advise Herr Davies, if he is ever going to get home 
this season, to make the best of this fine weather.' 

'It's too fine,' said Davies; 'I prefer wind. If I 
cannot get a friend I think I shall stop cruising, leave the 
yacht here, and come back for her next year.' 

There was some mute telegraphy between the allies. 

' You can leave her in my charge,' said Dollmann, ' and 
start with your friend to-morrow.' 

' Thanks ; but there is no hurry,' said Davies, growing 
redder than ever. ' I like Norderney — and we might have 
another sail in your dinghy, Fraulein,' he blurted oui 

' Thank you,' she said, in that low dry voice I had heard 
yesterday ; 'but I think I shall not be sailing again — it is 
getting too cold.' 

' Oh, no ! ' said Davies, ' it's splendid.* But she had 
turned to von Briining, and took no notice. 

'Well, send me a report about Memmert, Davies,' I 
laughed, with the idea of drawing attention from his rebuff. 
But Davies, having once delivered his soul, seemed to have 
lost his shyness, and only gazed at his neighbour with the 
placid dogged expression that I knew so welL That was 
the end of those delicate topics; and conviviality grew 
apace. 

I am not indifferent at any time to good wine and good 
cheer, nor was it for lack of pressing that I drank as 
sparingly as I was able, and pretended to a greater elation 
than I felt. Nor certainly was it from any fine scruples as 
to the character of the gentleman whose hospitality we 
were receiving — scruples which I knew affected Davies, who 
ate little and drank nothing. In any case he was adamant 



f70 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

in Buoh matters, and I verily believe would at az^ tfme hava 
preferred our own little paraffin-flavoured messes to the 
best dinner in the world. It was a very wholesome oautioxi 
that warned me not to abuse the finest bndn-tonio ever 
invented by the wit of man. I had finessed Memmert» aa 
one finesses a low card when holding a higher ; but I had 
too much respect for our adversaries to trade on any 
fancied security we had won thereby. They had allowed 
me to win the trick, but I credited them with a better 
knowledge of my hand than they chose to show. On the 
other hand I hugged the axiom that in all conflicts it is 
just as fatal to underrate the difficulties of your enemy, as 
to overrate your own. Their chief one — and it multiplied a 
thousandfold the excitement of the contest — was, I felt sure, 
the fear of striking in error ; of using a sledge-hammer to 
break a nui In breaking it they risked publicity, and 
publicity, I felt convinced, was death to their secret So, 
even supposing that they had detected the finesse, and 
guessed that we had in fact got wind of imperial designs ; 
yet, even so, I counted on immunity so long as they thought 
we were on the wrong scent, with Memmert and Memmert 
alone as the source of our suspicions. 

Had it been necessary I was prepared to encourage such 
a view, admitting that the cloth von Bruning wore had 
made his connection with Memmert curious, and had sug- 
gested to Davies, for I should have put it on him, with his 
naval enthusiasms, that the wreck-works were reaUy naval 
defence- works. If they went further, and suspected that 
we had tried to go to Memmert that very day, the position 
was worse, but not desperate ; for the fear that they would 
take the final step and suppose that we had actually got 
there and overheard their talk, I flatly refused to entcortain, 
until I should find myself under arrest 

Precisely how near we came to it I shall never rightly 
know ; but I have good reason to believe that we trembled 
on the verge. The main issue was fully enough for me, 



FINESSE 271 

and it was only in passing flashes that I followed the 
play of the warring nnder-enrrents. And yet, looking back 
on the scene, I would warrant there was no party of seven in 
Europe that evening where a student of human documents 
would have found so rich a field, such noble and ignoble 
ambitions, such base and holy fears, aye, and such pitiful 
agonies of the spirit. Boughly divided though we were 
into separate camps, no two of us were wholly at one. 
Each wore a mask in the grand imposture ; excepting, I 
am inclined to think, the lady on my left, who, outside 
her own well-being, which she cultivated without reserve, 
had, as far as I could see, but one axe to grind — the inti- 
macy of von Bruning and her stepdaughter — ^and ground 
it openly. 

Not even Bdhme and von Briining were wholly at one ; 
and as moral distances are reckoned, Davies and I were 
leagues apart. Sitting between Dollmann and Dollmann's 
daughter, the living and breathing symbols of the two polar 
passions he had sworn to harmonise, he kept an equilibrium 
which, though his aims were nominally mine, I could not 
attain to. For me the man was the central figure ; if I 
had attention to spare it was on him that I bestowed it ; 
groping disgustf ully after his hidden springs of action, not- 
ing the evidences of great gifts squandered and prostituted ; 
questioning where he was most vulnerable ; whom he feared 
most, us or his colleagues; whether he was open to remorse 
or shame; or whether he meditated further crime. The 
girl was incidental. After the first shock of surprise I had 
soon enough discovered that she, like the rest, had assumed 
a disguise; for she was far too innocent to sustain the 
deception, and yesterday was fresh in my memory. I was 
forced to continue turning her assumed character to 
account ; but it would be pharisaical in me to say that I 
rose to any moral heights in her regard — wine and excite- 
ment had deadened my better nature to that extent. I 
thought she looked prettier than ever, and, as time passed, 



179 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

I fell into a oynioal carelessness about her. This glimpw 
of her home life and the desperate expedients to which she 
was driven (whether by compulsion or from her own regard 
for Davies) to repel and dismiss him, did not strike me as 
ihey might have done as the crowning argument in favour 
of the course we had adopted the night before, that of 
compassing our end without noise and scandal, dJ<:arming 
DoUmann, but aiding him to escape from the all^'es he had 
betrayed. To Davies, the man, if not a pure abstraction, 
was at most a noxious vermin to be trampled on for the 
public good ; while the girl, in her blackguardly surround- 
ings and with her sinister future, had become the very 
source of his impulse. 

And the other players? Bohme was my abstraction, 
the fortress whose foundations we were sapping, the 
embodiment of that systematised force which is congenital 
to the German people. In von Briining, the personal 
factor was uppermost. Callous as I was this evening, I 
could not help wondering occasionally, as he talked and 
laughed with Clara Dollmann, what in his innermost 
thoughts, knowing her father, he felt and meani It is a 
point I cannot and would not pursue, and, thank heaven, it 
does not matter now; yet, with fuller knowledge of the 
facts, and, I trust, a mellower judgment, I often return to 
the same debate, and, by I know not what illogical by- 
paths, always arrive at the same conclusion, that I liked 
the man and like him still. 

We behaved as sportsmen in the matter of time, giving 
them over two hourii to make up their minds about us. It 
was only when tobacco-smoke and heat brought back my 
faintness, and a twinge of cramp warned me that human 
strength has limits, that I rose and said we must go ; that 
I had to make, an early start to-morrow. I am hazy about 
the farewells, ^ut I think that Dollmann was the most 
cordial, to me at any rate, and I augured good therefrom. 
Bohme said he should see me again. Von Briining, though 



FINESSE 278 

bound for the harbour also, ooneddered it was far too early 
to be going yet, and said good-bye. 

' Ton 'i^nt to talk ns over,' I remember saying, with 
the last flicker of gaiety I could muster. 

We were in the streets again, under a silver, breathless 
night; dizzily footing the greasy ladder again; in the 
cabin again, where I collapsed on a sofa just as I was, and 
slept such a deep and stringent sleep that the men of the 
'Blitz's' launch might have handcuffed and trussed and 
carried me away, without incommoding noe in the least 



f 

r 



274 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



CHAPTEB XXV 

I DOUBLB BACK 

'Ck>OD-BYB, old ohap/ called Dayies. 

' Good-bye.' The whistle blew and the ferry-steamer 
forged ahead, leaving Davies on the quay, bareheaded and 
wearing his old Norfolk jacket and stained grey flannels, as 
at our first meeting in Flensburg station. There was no 
bandaged hand this time, but he looked pnched and 
depressed; his eyes had black circles round them, and 
again I felt that same indefinable pathos in him. 

' Tour friend is in low spirits,' said Bohme, who was 
installed on a seat beside me, voluminously oaped and 
rugged against the biting air. It was a still, sunless day. 

< So am I,' I grunted, and it was the literal truth* I 
was only half awake, felt unwashed and dissipated, heavy 
in head and limbs. But for Davies I should never have 
been where I was. It was he who had patiently coaxed me 
out of my bunk, packed my bag, fed me with tea and an 
omelette (to which I believe he had devoted peculiarly 
tender care), and generally mothered me for departure. 
While I swallowed my second cup he was brushing the 
mould and smoothing the dents from my felt hat, which 
had been entombed for a month in the sail-locker ; working 
at it with a remorseful concern in his face. The only 
initiative I am conscious of having shown was in the 
matter of my bag. Put in my sea-clothes, oils, and all,' I 
had said ; * I may want them again.' There was mortal 
need of a thorough consultation, but this was out of the 



I DOUBLE BAOE 276 

qnestion. Dalies did not badger or complain, bat only 
timidly asked me how we were to meet and commnnioate, 
a question on which my mind was an absolute blank. 

' Look out for me about the 26th/ I suggested feebly. 

Before we left the cabin he gave me a scrap of pencilled 
paper and saw that it went safely into my pocket-book. 
' Look at it in the train/ he said. 

Unable to cope with B5hme, I paced the deck aimlessly 
as we swung round the See-Gat into the Buse Tief, trying 
to identify the point where we crossed it yesterday blind- 
fold. But the tide was full, and the waters blank for miles 
round till they merged in haze. Soon I drifted down into 
the saloon, and crouching over a stove pulled out that scrap 
of paper. In a crabbed, boyish hand, and much besmudged 
with tobacco-ashes, I found the following notes : 

< (1) Y(mr j(ywmey. ^ Norddeich 8.68, Emden 10.82, 
Leer 11.16 (Bohme changes for Bremen), Bheine 1.8 
(change), Amsterdam 7.17 p.m. Leave again vid Hook 
8.62, London 9 a.m. 

' (2) The coast-station — their rondezvous — querry is it 
NordenJ (You pass it 9.18)*— there is a tidal creek up 
to it. High water there on 26th, say 10.80 to 11 p.m. 
It cannot be Norddeich, which I find has a dredged-out 
low- water channel for the steamer, so '^ tide serves " would 
not apply. 

'(8) Yowr other clews (tugs, pilots, depths, railway, 
Esens, seven of something). Querry : Scheme of defence by 
land and sea for North Sea Coast ? 

' Sea — 7 islands, 7 channels between (counting West 
Ems) very small depths (what you said) in most of them. 
Tugs and pilots for patrol work behind islands, as I always 
said. Querry : Bondezvous is for inspecting channels ? 

' Land — look at railway (map in ulster pocket) running 
in a loop all round Friesland, a few miles from coasi 
Querry: To be used as line of communication for army 
* Bee Frontispiece and Map at page 141. 



976 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

oorpe. Troops coiild be quickly sent to any threatened 
point. Esens the base ? It is in top centre of loop. Von 
Brooning dished ns fairly oyer that at BensersieL 

* Chatham — ^D. was spying after onr naval plans for war 
with Germany. 

' Von Brooning-^rons naval part oyer here. 

'Where does Bonner come in? Qnerry — ^you go to 
Bremen and find oat about him ? ' 

I nodded stnpidly over this document — so stupidly that I 
found myself wondering whether Burmer was a place or a 
person. Then I dozed, to wake with a violent start and 
find the paper on the floor. Panic-stricken, I hid it away, 
and went on deck, when I found we were close to Norddeioh, 
running up to the bleakest of bleak jetties thrown out from 
the dyke-bound polders of the mainland. Bohme and I 
landed together, and he was at my elbow as I asked for a 
ticket for Amsterdam, and was given one as far as Bheine, 
a junction near the Dutch &ontier. He was ensconced in. 
an opposite comer to me in the railway carriage, looking 
like an Indian idol. * Where do you come in ? ' I pondered 
dreamily. Too sleepy to talk, I could only blink at himt 
sit&ig bolt upright with my arms folded over my predous 
pocket-book. Finally, I gave up the struggle, buttoned my 
ulster tightly up, and turning my back upon him with an 
apology, lay down to sleep, the precious pocket nethermost. 
He was at liberty to rifle my bag if he chose, and I dare 
say did. I cannot say, for from this point till Bheine, for 
the best part of four hours, that is, I had only two ludd 
intervals. 

The first was at Emden, where we both had to chango. 
Here, as we pushed our way down the crowded platform, 
Bohme, after being greeted respectfully by several persons, 
was at last buttonholed without means of escape by an 
obsequious gentleman, whose description is of no moment, 
but whose conversation is. It was about a canal ; what 
canal I did not gather, though, from a name dropped, I 



I DOUBLE BACK 277 

ftfterwards identified it as one in oonrse of oonstruotion as 
a feeder to the Ems. The point is that the subject was 
canals. At the moment it was seed dropped in unreoeptive 
soil, but it germinated later. I passed on, mingling with 
the. crowd, and was soon asleep again in another carriage 
where Bdhme this time did not follow me. 

The second occasion was at Leer, where I heard myself 
called by name, and woke to find him at the window. He 
had to change trains, and had come to say good-bye. 
' Don't forget to go to Lloyd's,' he grated in my ear. I 
expect it was a wan smile that I returned, for I was at a 
very low ebb, and my fortress looked sarcastically impreg- 
nable. But the sapper was free : ' free ' was my last 
conscious thought. 

Even after Bheine, where I changed for the last time, 
a brutish drowsiness enchained me, and the afternoon was 
well advanced before my faculties began to reyive. 

The train crept like a snail from station to station. I 
might, so a fellow-passenger told me, have waited three 
hours at Bheine for an express which would have brought 
me to Amsterdam at about the same time, or, if I had chosen 
to break the journey further back, two hours at either 
Emden or Leer would still have enabled me to catch the 
said express at Bheine. These alternatives had escaped 
Davies, and, I surmised, had been suppressed by Bdhme, 
who doubtless did not want me behind him, free either to 
double back or to follow him to Bremen. 

The pace, then, was execrable, and there were delays ; 
we were behind time at Hengelo, thirty minutes late at 
Apeldoom ; so that I might well have grown nervous about 
my connections at Amsterdam, which were in some 
jeopardy. But as I battled out of my lethargy and began 
to take account of our position and prospects, quite a 
different thought at the outset affected me. Anxiety to 
reach London was swamped in reluctance to quit Germany, 
go that I found myself grudging every mile that I placed 



S78 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

between me and the &ontier. It was the old question of 
nigenoy. To-day was the the 28rd. The visit to London 
meant a tninimntn absence of forty-eight hours, oonnting 
from Amsterdam; that is to say, that by travelling for 
two nights and one day, and devoting the other day to 
investigating Dollmann's past, it was humanly possible for 
me to be back on the Frisian coast on the evening of the 
26th. Tes! I could be at Norden, if that was the 
' rondezvous,' at 7 p.ic But what a scramble ! No margin 
for delays, no physical respite. Some pasts take a deal of 
raking up — other persons may be affected ; men are cautious, 
they trip you up with red tape ; or the man who knows is 
out at lunch — ^a protracted lunch ; or in the country — ^a 
protracted week-end. Will you see Mr. So-and-so, or leave 
a note? Oh 1 I know those public departments — ^from the 
inside. And the Admiralty I . . I saw myself baffled 
and racing back the same night do Gtermany, with two days 
wasted, arriving, good for nothing, at Norden, with no 
leisure to reconnoitre my ground ; to be baffled again there, 
probably, for you cannot always count on fogs (as Davies 
said). Esens was another clue, and < to follow Burmer ' 
— there was something in that notion. But I wanted time, 
and had I time? How long could Davies maintain him- 
self at Nordemey? Not so very long, from what I 
remembered of last night. And was he even safe there ? 
A feverish dream recurred to me — a dream of Davies in a 
diving-dress ; of a regrettable hitch in the air-supply — 
Stop, that was nonsense! . . . Let us be sane. What 
matter if he had to go? What matter if I took my 
time in London? Then with a flood of shame I 
saw Davies's wistful face on the quay, heard his grim 
ejaculation : ' He's our game or no one's ' ; and my own 
sullen : * Oh, I'll keep the secret ! ' London was utterly 
impossible. If I found my informant, what credentials 
had I, what claim to confidences ? None, unless I told the 
whole story. Why, my mere presence in Whitehall would 



I DOUBLE BACK 279 

imperil the secret ; for, once on my native heath, I should 
be recognised — possibly haled to judgment; at the best 
should escape in a cloud of rumour — 'last heard of at 
Norderney ' ; ' only this morning was raising Cain at the 
Admiralty about a mythical lieutenant.' Nol Back to 
Frieslan^ was the word. One night's rest — I must have 
that — between sheets, on a feather bed ; one long luxurious 
night, and then back refreshed to Friesland, to finish our 
work in our own way, and with none but our own weapons. 

Having reached this resolve, I was nearly putting it 
into instant execution by alighting at Amersfoort, but 
thought better of it. I had a transformation to effect 
before I returned north, and the more populous centre I 
made it in the less it was likely to attract notice. Besides, 
I had in my mind's eye a perfect bed in a perfect hostelry 
hard by the Amstel Biver. It was an economy in the end. 

So, at half-past eight I was sipping my coffee in the 
aforesaid hostelry, with a London newspaper before me, 
which was unusually interesting, and some German jour- 
nals, which, 'in hate of a wrong not theirs,' were one and 
all seething with rancorous Anglophobia. At nine I was 
in the Jewish quarter, striking bargains in an infamous 
marine slop-shop. At half-past nine I was despatching 
this unscrupulous telegram to my chief — 'Very sorry, 
could not call Norderney; hope extension all right; 
please write to H6tel du Louvre, Paris.' At ten I was in 
the perfect bed, rapturously flinging my Umbs abroad in its 
glorious redundancies. And at 8.28 on the following 
morning, with a novel chilliness about the upper lip, and a 
vast access of strength and spirits, I was sitting in a third- 
class carriage, bound for Germany, and dressed as a young 
seaman, in a pea-jacket, peaked cap, and comforter. 

The transition had not been di£&cult. I had shaved off 
my moustache and breakfasted hastily in my bedroom, 
ready equipped for a journey in my ulster and cloth cap. 
I had dismissed the hotel porter at the station, and left my 



t80 THE BIDDIiB OF THE BANDS 

bag at the oloak-room, after taking out of it an mnber 
bundle and substitating the aleter. The umber bundle^ 
which consisted of my oilskins, and within them my sea- 
boots and a few other garments and necessaries, the whole 
tied up with a length of tarry rope, was now in the rack 
above me» and (with a stont stick) represented my luggage. 
Every article in it— I shudder at their origin — was in 
strict keeping with my humble nUtier, for I knew they were 
liable to search at the frontier Custom-house ; but there was 
a Baedeker of Northern Germany in my jacket pocket. 

For the nonce, if questions were asked, I was an English 
seaman going to Emden to join a ship, with a ticket as far 
as the frontier. Beyond that a definite scheme of action 
had still to be thought out. 

One thing, however, was sure. I was determined to be 
at Norden to-morrow night, the 25th. A word about 
Norden, which is a small town seven miles south of Nord- 
deich. When hurriedly scanning the map for coast stations 
in the cabin yesterday, I had not thought of Norden 
because it did not appear to be on the coast, but Davies had 
noticed it while I slept, and I now saw that his pencilled 
bint was a shrewd one. The creek he spoke of, though 
barely visible on the map,^ flowed into the Ems Estuary in 
a south-westerly direction. The 'night train' tallied to 
perfection, for high tide in the creek would be, as Davies 
estimated, between 10.80 and 11 p.m. on the night of the 
25th ; and the time-table showed that the only night train 
arriving at Norden was one from the south at 10.46 p.ii. 
This looked promising. Emden, which I had inclined to on 
the spur of the moment, was out of court in comparison, for 
many reasons; not the least being that it was served by 
three trains between 9 p.m. and 1 a.m., so that the phrase 
* night train ' would be ambiguous and not decisive as with 
Norden. 

Bo far good : but how was I to spend the intervening 

> Map At p. 141. 



lAAfa. 



I DOUBLB BAOE 281 

time? Should I act on Davies's 'querry* and go to 
Bremen after Bohme ? I soon dismissed that idea. It was 
one to act upon if others failed ; for the present it meant 
another scramble. Bremen is six hours froni Norden by 
rail. I should spend a disproportionate amount of my 
limited time in trains, and I should want a different dis- 
guise. Besides, I had already learnt something fresh 
about Bohme; for the seed dropped at Emden Station 
yesterday had come to life. A submarine engineer I knew 
him to be before ; I now knew that canals were another 
branch of his labours — not a very illuminating fact ; but 
could I pick up more in a single day ? 

There remained Esens, and it was thither I resolved 
to go to-night — a tedious journey, lasting till past eight in 
thA evening; but there I should only be an hour from 
Norden by rail. 

And at Esens 9 

All day long I strove for light on the central 
mystery, collecting from my diary, my memory, my 
imagination, from the map, the time-table, and Davies's 
grubby jottings, every elusive atom of material. Some- 
times I issued from a reverie with a start, to find a 
phlegmatic Dutch peasant staring strangely at me over his 
china pipe. I was more careful over the German border. 
Davies's paper I soon knew by heart. I pictured him 
writing it with his cramped fist in his comer by the stove, 
fighting against sleep, absently striking salvoes of matches 
while I snored in my bunk; absently diverging into 
dreams, I knew, of a rose-brown face under dewy hair and 
a grey tam-o'-shanter ; though not a word of her came into 
the document. I smiled to see his undying faith in the 
'channel theory ' reconciled at the eleventh hour, with new 
data touching the neglected ' land.' 

The result was certainly interesting, but it left me cold. 
That there existed in the German archives some such 
scheme of defence for the North Sea Coast was very likely 



282 THE BIDDLB OF THE BANDS 

indeed. The seven islands, with their seven shallow 
channels (though, by the way, two of them, the twin 
bianohes of the Ems, are by no means so shallow), were a 
very fair conjecture, and fitted in admirably with the 
channel theory, whose intrinsic merits I had always recog- 
nised ; my constant objection having been that it did not 
go nearly far enough to account for our treatment The 
ring of railway round the peninsula, with Esens at the 
apex, was suggestive too ; but the same objection applied. 
Every counby with a maritime frontier has, I suppose, 
secret plans of mobilisation for its defence, but they are not 
such as could be discovered by passing travellers, not such 
as would warrant stealthy searches, or require for their 
elaboration so recondite a meeting-place as Memmert. 
Dollmann was another weak point ; Dollmann in England, 
spying. All countries, Germany included, have spies in 
their service, dirty though necessary tools ; but Dollmann 
in such intimate association with the principal plotters on 
this side; Dollmann rich, influential, a power in local 
affairs — ^it was clear he was no ordinary spy. 

And here I detected a hesitation in Davies's rough 
sketch, a reluctance, as it were, to pursue a clue to its 
logical end. He spoke of a German scheme of coast 
defence, and in the next breath of Dollmann spying for 
English plans in the event of war with Germany, and there 
he left the matter ; but what sort of plans ? Obviously (if 
he was on the right track) plans of attack on the German 
coast as opposed to those of strategy on the high seas. 
But what sort of an attack ? Obviously again, if his rail- 
way-ring meant anything, an attack by invasion on that 
remote and desolate littoral which he had so often himself 
declared to be impregnably secure behind its web of sands 
and shallows. My mind went back to my question at 
Bensersiel, ' Can this coast be invaded ? ' to his denial and 
our fruitless survey of the dykes and polders. Was he 
now reverting to a fancy we had both rejected, while 



I DOUBLE BACK 288 

ihiinking from giving it explicit utterance? The doubt 

was tantalising. 

A brief digression here about the phases of my journey. 

At Bheine I changed trains, turned due north and became 

a German seaman. There was little risk in a defective 

accent — sailors are so polyglot; while an English sailor 

straying about Esens might excite curiosity. Yesterday 

I had paid no heed to the landscape ; to-day I neglected 

nothing that could conceivably supply a hint. 

From Bheine to Emden we descended the valley of the 
Ems; at first through a land of thriving towns and fat 
pastures, degenerating further north to spaces of heathery 
bog and moorland~a sad country, but looking at its best, 
such as that was, for I should mention here that the weather, 
which in the early morning had been as cold and misty as 
ever, grew steadily milder and brighter as the day advanced ; 
while my newspaper stated that the glass was falling and 
the anticyclone giving way to pressure from the Atlantic. 

At Emden, where we entered Friesland proper, the train 
crossed a big canal, and for the twentieth time that day 
(for we had passed numbers of them in Holland, and not a 
few in Germany), I said to myself, ' Canals, canals. Where 
does Bohme come in ? ' It was dusk, but light enough to 
see an unfamiliar craft, a torpedo boat in fact, moored to 
stakes at one side. In a moment I remembered that page 
in the ' North Sea Pilot ' where the Ems- Jade canal is 
referred to as deep enough to carry gun boats, and as used 
for that strategic purpose between Wilhelmshaven and 
Emden, along the base, that is, of the Frisian peninsula. 
I asked a peasant opposite ; yes, that was the Ems- Jade 
Canal. Had Davies forgotten it 9 It would have greatly 
strengthened his halting sketch. 

At the bookstall at Emden I bought a pocket ordnance 
map ^ of Friesland, on a much larger scale than anything I 

* There is of cottrse no spaoe to reproduce this, bnt here and 
benoeforfnurd the reader is referred to the small map at p. 141. 



284 THE BTODLB OF THE SANDS 

had used before, and when I was nnobaerved studied the 
course of the oanal, with an impatienoe which, alas! 
quickly cooled. From Emden northwards I used the same 
map to aid my eyesight, and with its help saw in the 
gathering gloom more heaths and bogs; once a great 
glimmering lake, and at intervals cultivated tracts; a 
watery land as ever; pools, streams and countless drains 
and ditches. EztensiTe woods were marked also, but 
further inland. 

We passed Norden at seven, just dark. I looked out 
for the creek, and, sure enough, we crossed it just before 
entering the station. Its bed was nearly dry, and I dis- 
tinguished barges lying aground in ii 

This being the junction for Esens, I had to wait ^Ibree- 
quarters of an hour, and then turned east through the 
uttermost northern wilds, stopping at occasional village 
stations and keeping five or six miles from the sea. It was 
during this stage, in a wretchedly lit compartment, and 
alone for the most part, that I finally assembled all my 
threads and tried to weave them into a cable whose core 
should be Esens ; * a town,' so Baedeker said, ' of 8,600 
inhabitants, the centre of a rich agricultural district. Fine 
spire.' 

Esens is four miles inland from BensersieL I reviewed 
every circumstance of that day at Bensersiel, and boiled to 
think how von Briining had tricked me. He had driven 
to Esens himself, and read me so well that he had actually 
offered to take me with him, and I had refused from excess 
of cleverness. Stay, though ; if I had happened to accept 
he would have taken very good care that I saw nothing 
important. The secret, therefore, was not writ large on 
the walls of Esens. Was it connected with Bensersiel toOf 
or the country between? I searched the ordnance map 
again, standing up to get a better light and less jolting. 
There was the road northward from Esens to Bensersiel 
passing through dots and chess-board squares, the former 



I DOUBLE BAOE 885 

meaning fen, the latter fields, so the reference said. Some- 
tiling else, too, immediately caught my eye, and that was a 
stream ronning to Bensersiel. I knew it at once for the 
muddy stream or drain we had seen at the harbour, issuing 
through the sluice or siel from which Bensersiel took its 
name. But it arrested my attention now because it looked 
more prominent than I should have expected. Charts are 
apt to ignore the geography of the mainland, except in so far 
as it offers sea-marks to mariners. On the chart this stream 
had been shown as a rough little corkscrew, like a sucking- 
pig's tail. On the ordnance map it was marked with a 
dark blue line, was labelled * Benser Tief,' and was given a 
more resolute course ; bends became angles, and thelre were 
what appeared to be artificial straightnesses at certain 
points. One of the threads in my skein, the canal thread, 
tingled sympathetically, like a wire charged with current. 
Standing astraddle on both seats, with the map close to the 
lamp, I greedily followed the course of the 'tief ' southward. 
It inclined away from the road to Esens and passed the 
town about a mile to the west, diving underneath the rail- 
way. Soon after it took angular tacks to the eastward, 
and joined another blue' line trending south-east, and lettered 
* Esens — Wittmunder OomaV This canal, however, came 
to an abrupt end halfway to Wittmund, a neighbouring 
town. 

For the first time that day there came to me a sense of 
genuine inspiration. Those shallow depths and short 
distances, fractions of metres and kilometres, which I had 
overheard from Bohme's lips at Memmert, and which 
Davies had attributed to the outside channels— did they 
refer to a canal ? I remembered seeing barges in Bensersiel 
harbour. I remembered conversation with the natives in 
the inn, scraps of the post-master's pompous loquacity; 
talks of a growing trade, of bricks and grain passing from 
the interior to the islands; from another source — was it 
the grocer of Wangeroog ? — of expansion of business in the 



886 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

islands themselves as bathing resorts ; bom another source^ 
again — ^von Bruning himself, sorely — of Dollmann*B 
personal activity in tbo development of the islands. In 
obscnre connection with these things, I saw the torpedo- 
boat in the Ems- Jade canal. 

It was between Domnm and Esens that these ideas came, 
and I was still absorbed in them when the train drew up, 
just apon nine o'clock, at my destination, and after ten 
minutes' walk, along with a handful of other passengers, I 
found myself in the quiet cobbled streets of Esens, with 
the great church steeple, that we had so often seen from the 
sea, soaring above me in the moonlight. 



S87 



CHAPTEB XXVI 

THE SEVEN SIEDS 

Sbleotino the very humblest Oasthatts I could discover, 
I laid down my bundle and called for beer, bread, and 
Wi4/r8t The landlord, as I had expected, spoke the Frisian 
dialect, so that though he was rather difficult to understand, 
he had no doubts about the purity of my own high German 
accent. He was a worthy fellow, and hospitably interested : 
' Did I want a bed ? ' 'No, I was going on to Bensersiel,' I 
said, ' to sleep there, and take the morning Postschiff to 
Langeoog Island.' (I had not forgotten our friends the twin 
giants and their functions.) ' I was not an islander myself ? ' 
he asked. ' No, but I had a married sister there ; had just 
returned from a year's voyaging, and was going to visit her.' 

* By the way,' I asked, ' how are they getting on with the 
Benser Tief ? ' My friend shrugged his shoulders ; it was 
finished, he believed. < And the connection to Wittmund ? ' 

* Under construction still.' 'Langeoog would be goin^ 
ahead then ? ' ' Oh ! he supposed so, but he did not believe 
in these new-fangled schemes.' ' But it was good for trade, 
I supposed ? Esens would benefit in sending goods by the 
*^ tief " ; what was the traffic, by the way ? ' ' Oh, a few 
more barge-loads than before of bricks, timber, coals, etc., 
but it would come to nothing he knew ; AktiengesellscMfts 
(companies) were an invention of the devil. A few specu- 
lators got tiiem up and made money themselves out of land 
and contracts, while the shareholders they had hoodwinked 
starved.' ' There's something in that,' I conceded to this 



988 THE BIDDLB OF THE 8ANDB 

bigoted old conseryatiTe ; * my sister at Langeoog rents her 
lodging-house from a man named DoUmann ; they say he 
owns a heap of land about. I saw his yacht onoe — ^pink 
Telvet and electric light inside, they say ' 

'That's the name,' said mine host^ 'that's one of them 
— some sort of f oreignery I'ye heard ; runs a salvage oon- 
oem too, Juist way.' 

'Well, he won't get any of my savings I ' I laughed, and 
soon after took my leave, and inquired from a passer-by the 
road to Domum, * Follow the railway,' I was told. 

With a warm wind in my face from the south-wee^ 
fleecy clouds and a half -moon overhead, I set out, not for 
Bensersiel but for Benser Tief, which I knew must cross 
the road to Domum somewhere. A mile or so of cobbled 
causeway flanked with ditches and willows, and running 
cheek by jowl with the railway track ; then a bridge, and 
below me the * Tief ' ; which was in fact a small canal. A 
rutty track left the road, and sloped down to it one side ; a 
rough siding left the railway, and sloped down to it on the 
other. 

I lit a pipe and sat on the parapet for a little. No 
one was stirring, so with great droumspection I began 
to reconnoitre the left bank to the north. The siding 
entered a fenced enclosure by a locked gate — a gate Icould 
have easily climbed, but I judged it wiser to go round by 
the bridge again and look across. The enclosure was a 
small cofld-store, nothing more ; there were gaunt heaps of 
coal glittering in the moonlight ; a barge half loaded lying 
alongside, and a deserted office-building. I skulked tlong 
a sandy tow-path in solitude. Fens and fields were round 
me, as the map had said ; willows and osier-beds ; the dim 
forms of catUe; the low melody of wind roaming un- 
fettered over a plain ; once or twice the flutter and quack 
of a startled wild-duck. 

Presently I came to a farmhouse, dark and silent; 
opposite it, in the canal, a couple of empty barges. I 



THE SEVEN SIELS 289 

olimbed into one of these, and sounded with my stick on 
the off-side — barely three feet ; and the torpedo-boat melted 
out of my speculations. The stream, I observed also, was 
only just wide enough for two barges to pass with comfort. 
Other farms I saw or thought I saw, and a few more barges 
lying in side-cuts linked by culverts to the canal, but 
nothing noteworthy ; and mindful that I had to explore the 
Wittmund side of the railway too, I turned back, already a 
kifle damped in spirits, but still keenly expectant. 

Passing under the road and railway, I again followed 
the tow-path, which, after half a mile, plunged into woods, 
then entered a clearing and another fenced enclosure; 
a timber-yard by the look of it. This time I stripped from 
the waist downwards, waded over, dressed again, and 
climbed the paling. (There was a cottage stan^ng back, 
but its occupants evidently slept.) I was in a timber-yard, 
by the stacks of wood and the steam sawmill ; but some- 
thing more than a timber-yard, for as I warily advanced 
under the shadow of the trees at the edge of the clearing, 
I came to a long tin shed which strangely reminded me of 
Memmert, and below it, nearer the canal, loomed a dark 
skeleton framework, which proved to be a half -built vessel 
on stocks. Close by was a similar object, only nearly 
completed — a barge. A paved slipway led to the water 
here, and the canal broadened to a siding or back-water in 
which lay seven or eight more barges in tiers. I scaled 
another paling and went on, walking, I should think, three 
miles by the side of the canal, till the question of bed and 
ulterior plans brought me to a halt. 

It was past midnight, and I was adding little to my 
information. I had encountered a brickfield, but soon after 
that there was increasing proof that the canal was as yet 
little used for traffic. It grew narrower and there were 
many signs of recent labour for its improvement. In one 
place a dammed-off deviation was being excavated, evidently 
to abridge an impossible bend. The path had become 

u 



S90 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

atrodotw, and my boots were heavy with olay. Bearing in 
mind the abruptly ending blue line on the map, I considered 
it useless to go farther, and retraced my steps, trying to 
concoct a story which woold satisfy an irritable Esens 
innkeeper that it was a respectable wayfarer, and not a 
tramp or a lunatic, who knocked him up at half -past one or 
thereabouts. 

But a much more practical resource occurred to me as 
I approached the timber-yard; for lodging, free and 
accessible, lay there ready to hand. I boarded one of the 
empty barges in the backwater, and surveyed my quarters 
for the night. It was of a similar pattern to all the others 
I had seen ; a lighter, strictly, in the sense that it had na 
means of self-propulsion, and no separate quarters for a 
orew, the whole interior of the hull being free for cargo. 
At both bow and stem there were ten feet or so of deck, 
garnished with faitts and bollards. The rest was an open 
well, flanked by waterways of substantial breadth; the 
whole of stout construction and, for a humble lighter, of 
well-proportioned and even graceful design, with a marked 
forward sheer, and, as I had observed in the specimen on 
the stocks, easy lines at the stem. In short, it was appa- 
rent, even to an ignorant landsman like myself, that she was 
designed not merely for canal work but for rough water ; 
and well she might be, for, though the few miles of sea she 
had to cross in order to reach the islands were both shallow 
and sheltered, I knew from experience what a vicious surf 
they could be whipped into by a sudden gale. It must not 
be supposed that I dwelt on this matter. On limited 
lines I was making progress, but the wings of imagination 
still drooped nervelessly at my sides. Otherwise I per- 
haps should have examined this lighter more particularly, 
instead of regarding it mainly as a convenient hiding- 
place. 

Under the stem-deck was stored a massive roll of tus 
paulin, a corner of which made an excellent blanket, and 



THE SEVEN SIELS 291 

mj bttndle a good pillow. It was a descent from the 
luxTuy of last night ; but a spy, I reflected philosophically, 
cannot expect a feather-bed two nights running, and this 
one was at any rate airier and roomier than the coffin-like 
bunk of the ' Duldbella/ and not so very much harder. 

When snugly ensconced^ I studied the map by inter- 
mittent match-light. It had been dawning on me in the 
last half -hour that this Canal was only one of several ; that 
in concentrating myself on Esens and Bensendel, I had 
forgotten that there were other villages ending in siel, also 
furnished on the chart with C9rkscrew streams; and, 
moreover, that Bdhme's statistics of depth and distance had 
been marshalled in seven categories, A to O. The very 
first match brought full recollection as to the villages. 
The suffix siel repeated itself all round the coast-line. 
Five miles eastward of Bensersiel was Neu-harlingersiel, 
and further on Garolinensiel. Four miles westward was 
Dornumersiel ; and further on Nessmersiel and Hilgen- 
riedersiel. That was six on the north coast of the penin- 
sula alone. On the west coast, fadng the Ems, there was 
only one, Oreetsiel, a good way south of Norden. But on 
the east, facing the Jade, there were no less than eight, at 
very close intervals. A moment's thought and I disregarded 
this latter group ; they had nothing to do with Esens, nor 
had they any imaginable raison d'Stre as veins for com- 
merce ; difiGudng markedly in this respect from the group 
of six on the north coast, whose outlook was the chain of 
islands, and whose inland centre, almost exactly, was 
Esens. I still wanted one to make seven, and as a work- 
ing hypothesis added the solitary Oreetsiel. At all seven 
villages streams debouched, as at BensersieL From all 
seven points of issue dotted lines were marked seaward, 
intersecting the great tidal sands and leading towards the 
islands. And on the mainland behind the whole sevenfold 
system ran the loop of railway. But there were manifold 

minor points of difiEerence. No stream boajted so deep and 

v2 



292 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

deddve a bine line as did Benser Tief ; none penetrated so 
fiur into the Hinterland. They yaried in length and 
sinnosity. Two, those belonging to Hilgenriedersiel and 
Oreetsiel, appeared not to reaoh the railway at all. On the 
other hand, Garolinensiel, opposite Wangeroog Island, had 
a branch line all to itself. 

Match after match waxed and waned as I puzzled over 
the mystic seven. In the end I puzzled myself to sleep, 
with ihe one fixed idea that to-morrow, on my way back to 
Norden, I most see more of these budding canals, if suoh 
they were. 

My dreams that night were of a mighty chain of re- 
doubts and masked batteries couching perdtu among the 
sand-dunes of desolate islets : built, coral-like, by infinitely 
slow and secret labour; fed by lethal cargoes borne in 
lighters and in charge of stealthy mutes who, one and all, 
bore the likeness of Grimm. 

I was up and away at daylight (the weather mild and 
showery), meeting some navvies on my way back to the 
road, who gave me good morning and a stare. On the 
bridge I halted and fell into torments of indecision. There 
was so much to do and so little time to do it in. The 
whole problem seemed to have been multiplied by seven, and 
the total again doubled and redoubled — seven blue lines on 
land, seven dotted lines on the sea, seven islands in the 
ofiSng. Once I was near deciding to put my pretext into 
practice, and cross to Langeoog ; but that meant missing 
the rendezvous, and I was loth to do that. 

At any rate, I wanted breakfast badly ; and the best 
way to get it, and at the same time to open new ground, 
was to walk to Domum. Then I should find a blue Une 
called the NetLCS Tief, leading to Domumersiel on the coast. 
That explored, I could pass on to Nesse where there was 
another blue line to NessmersieL All this was on the way 
to Norden, and I should have the railway constantly at my 
back, to carry me there in the evening. The last train 



THE SEVEN SIELS 298 

my time-table told me) was one reaching Norden at 
7.15 P.M. I could catch this at Hage Station at 7.6. 

A brisk walk of six miles brought me, ravenously 
hungry, to Domum. Boad and railway had clung together 
all the time, and about halfway had been joined on the left 
by a third companion in the shape of a puny stream which 
I knew from the map to be the upper portion of Neues Tief • 
Wriggling and doubling like an eel, choked with sedges and 
reeds, it had no pretentions to being navigable. At length 
it looped away into the fens out of sight, only to reappear 
again close to Domum in a much more dignified guise. 

There was no siding where the railway crossed it, but 
at the town itself, which is skirted on the east, a towpath 
began and a piled wharf had been recently constructed. 
Going on to this was a red-brick building with the look of 
a warehouse, roofless as yet, and with workmen on its 
sca£fblds. It sharpened the edge of my appetite. 

If I had been wise I should have been content with a 
snack bought at a counter, but a thirst for hot coffee and 
dues induced me to repeat the experiment of Esens and 
seek a primitive beerhouse. I was less lucky on this 
occasion. The house I chose was obscure enough, but its 
proprietor was no simple Frisian, but an ill-looking rascal 
with shifty eyes and a debauched complexion, who showed 
a most unwelcome curiosity in his customer. As a last 
fatality, he wore a peaked cap like my own, and turned out 
to be an ex-sailor. I should have fled at the sight of him 
had I had the chance, but I was attended to flrst by a 
slatternly girl who, I am sure, called him up to view me. 
To explain my muddy boots and trousers I said I had 
walked from Esens, and from that I found myself involved 
in a tangle of impromptu lies. Floundering down an old 
groove, I placed my sister this time on Baltrum Island, and 
said I was going to Dornumersiel (which is opposite 
Baltrum) to cross from there. As this was drawing a bow 
at a venture, I dared not assume local knowledge, and spoke 



294 THE RIDDLE OF THE BAITDS 

of the viflit as my first. Dornmnersiel was a luoky shot ; 
there w(u a ferry-galliot from there to Baltmm ; but he 
knew or pretended to know Baltmm, and had not heard of 
my sister. I grew the more nervous in that I saw from 
the first that he took me to be of better condition than 
most merchant seamen ; and, to make matters worse, I was 
imprudent enough in pleading haste to pull out from an 
inner pocket my gold watch with the chain and seals 
attached. He told me there was no hurry, that I should 
miss the tide at Dornmnersiel, and then fell to pressing 
strong waters on me, and asking questions whose insinuat- 
ing grossness gave me the key to his biography. He must 
have been at one stage in his career a dock-side crimp, one 
of those foul sharks who prey on discharged seamen, anci 
as often as not are ez-seamen themselves, versed in the 
weaknesses of the tribe. He was now keeping his hand in 
with me, who unhappily purported to belong to the very 
class he was used to victimise, and moreover had a gold 
watch and doubtless a full purse. Nothing more ridicu- 
lously inopportune could have befallen me, or more dan- 
gerous ; for his class are as cosmopolitan as waiters and 
conciergeSf with as facile a gift for language and as unerring 
a scent for nationality. Sure enough, the fellow recognised 
mine, and positively challenged me with it in fairly fluent 
English with a Yankee twang. Encumbered with the 
mythical sister, of course I stuck to my lie, said I had been 
on an English ship so long that I had picked up the accent, 
and also gave him some words of broken English. At the 
same time I showed I thought him an impertinent nuisance, 
paid my score and walked out — quit of him ? Not a bit of 
it ! He insisted on showing me the way to Dornmnersiel, 
and followed me down the street. Perceiving that he was 
in liquor, in spite of the early hour, I dared not risk a 
quarrelsome scene with a man who already knew so much 
about me, and might at any moment elicit more. So I 
melted, and humoured him ; treated him in a ginshop in 



THE SEVEN SIELS 29S 

ttie hope of giving him the slip — a disastrous resource, 
which was made a precedent for further potations elsewhere, 
I would gladly draw a veil over our scandalous progress 
through peaceable Domum, of the terrors I experienced 
when he introduced me as his friend, and as his English 
friend, and of the abasement I fell to as, linked arm in arm, 
we trod the three miles of road coastwards. It was his 
mali<nous whim that we should talk English ; a fortunate 
whim, as it turned out, because I knew no fo'c'sle German, 
but had a smattering of fo'o'sle English, gathered from 
Gutliffe Hyne and £ipling. With these I extemporised a 
disreputable hybrid, mostly consisting of oaths and blas- 
phemies, and so yarned of imaginary voyages. Of course 
he knew every port in the world, but happily was none too 
critical, owing to repeated schnappsen. 

Nevertheless, it was a deplorable contretemps from every 
point of vieiw. I was wasting my time, for the road took a 
different direction to the Neues Tief , so that I had not even 
the advantage of inspecting the canal, and only met with it 
when we reached the sea. Here it split into two mouths, 
both furnished with locks, and emptying into two little 
mud-hole harbours, replicas of Bensersiel, each owning its 
duster of houses. I made straight for the Oasthatts at 
Domumersiel, primed my companion well, and asked him 
to wait while I saw about a boat in the harbour; but, 
needless to say, I never rejoined him. I just took a cursory 
look at the left-hand harbour, saw a lighter locking through 
(for the tide was high), and then walked as fast as my legs 
would carry me to the outermost dyke, mounted it, and 
strode along the sea westwards in the teeth of a smart 
shower of rain, full of deep apprehensions as to the stir and 
gossip my disappearance might cause if my odious crimp 
was sober enough to discover it. As soon as I deemed it 
safe, I dropped on to the sand and ran till I could run no 
more. Then I sat on my bundle with my back to the dyke, 
in partial shelter from the rain, watching the sea recede 



296 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

from the flats and dwindle into slender meres, and the 
laden donds fly weeping oyer the islands till those pale 
shapes were lost in mist. 

The barge I had seen looking through was creeping 
across towards Langeoog behind a tag and a wisp of smoke. 

No more exploration by daylight ! That was my first 
resolve, for I felt as if the country must be ringing witli 
reports of an Englishman in disguise. I must remain in 
hiding till dusk, then regain the railway and slink into that 
train to Norden. Now directly I began to resign myself to 
temporary inaction, and to centre my thoughts on the 
rendezvous, a new doubt assailed me. Nothing had seemed 
more certain yesterday than that Norden was the scene of 
the rendezvous, but that was before the seven siels had 
come into prominence. The name Norden now sounded 
naked and unconvincing. As I wondered why, it suddenly 
occurred to me that all the stations along this northern 
line, though further inland than Norden, were equally 
' coast-stations ' in the sense that they were in touch with 
harbours (of a sort) on the coast Norden had its tidal 
creek, but Esens and Domum had their * tief s ' or canals. 
Fool that I had been to put such a narrow and literal 
construction on the phrase ' the tide serves ' I Which was 
it more likely that my conspirators would visit — Norden, 
whose intrusion into our theories was purely hypothetical, 
or one of these siels to whose sevenfold system all my 
latest observations gave such transcendent significance 7 

There was only one answer; and it filled me with 
profound discouragement. Seven possible rendezvous ! — 
eight, counting Norden. Which to make for? Out came 
the time-table and map, and with them hope. The case 
was not so bad after all ; it demanded no immediate change 
of plan, though it imported grave uncertainties and risks. 
Norden was still the objective, but mainly as a railway 
junction, only remotely as a seaport. Though the possible 
rendezvous were eight, the possible stations were reduced to 



THE SEVEN SIELS 297 

five — ^NordeBi Hage, Domum, Esens, Wittmund — all on one 
single line. Trains from east to west along this line were 
negligible, because there were none that could be called 
night trains, the latest being the one I had this morning 
fixed on to bring me to Norden, where it arrived at 7.15. 
Of trains from west to east there was only one that need be 
considered, the same one that I had travelled by last night, 
leaving Norden at 7.48 and reaching Esens at 8.50, and 
Wittmund at 9.18. This train, as the reader who was with 
me in it knows, was in correspondence with another from 
Emden and the south, and also, I now found, with services 
from Hanover, Bremen, and Berlin. He will also remember 
that I had to wait three-quarters of an hour at Norden, 
from 7 to 7.48. 

The platform at Norden Junction, therefore, between 
7.15, when I should arrive at it from the east, and 7.48 
whenBohme and his unknown friend would leave it /or the 
east ; there, and in that half-hour, was my opportunity for 
recognising and shadowing two at least of the conspirators. 
I must take the train they took, and alight where they 
alighted. If I could not find them at all I should be 
thrown back on the rejected view that Norden itself was 
the rendezvous, and should wait there till 10.46. 

In the meantime it was all very well to resolve on 
inaction till dusk ; but after an hour's rest, damp clothes 
and feet and the absence of pursuers tempted me to take 
the field again. Avoiding roads and villages as long as it 
was light, I cut across country south-westwards — a dismal 
and laborious journey, with oozy fens and knee-deep drains 
to course, with circuits to be made to pass clear of peasants, 
and many furtive crouchings behind dykes and willows. 
What little I learnt was in harmony with previous explora- 
tions, for my track cut at right angles the line of the Harke 
Tief, the stream issuing at Nessmersiel. It, too, was in 
the nature of a canal, but only in embryo at the point I 
touched it, south of Nesse. Works on a deviation were 



996 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

in progress, and in a short digression down stream I 
sighted another lighter-building yard. As for Hilgenrieder^ 
siel, the fourth of the seven, I had no time to see anything 
of it at alL At seven o'clock I was at Hage Station, very 
tired, wet, and footsore, after covering nearly twenty miles 
all told since I left my bed in the lighter. 

From here to Norden it was a ran in the train of ten 
minutes, which I spent in eating some lye bread and smoked 
eel, and in scraping the mud off my boots and trousers. 

Fatigue vanished when the train drew up at the station, 
and the momentous twenty-eight minutes began to run 
their course. Having donned a bulky muffler and turned 
up the collar of my pea-jacket, I crossed over immediately 
to the up-platform, walked boldly to the booking-office, and 
at once sighted — ^von Bruning — ^yes, von Bruning in 
mufti ; but there was no mistaking his tall athletic figure, 
pleasant features, and neat brown beard. He was just 
leaving the window, gathering up a ticket and some coins. 
I joined a qiAeue of three or four persons who were waiting 
their turn, flattened myself between them and the partition 
till I heard him walk out. Not having heard what station 
he had booked for, I took a fourth-class ticket to Wittmiind, 
which covered all chances. Then, with my chin buried in 
my muffler, I sought the darkest corner of the ill-lit 
combination of bar and waiting-room where, by the tire- 
some custom in Germany, would-be travellers are penned 
till their train is ready. Von Bruning I perceived sitting 
in another comer, with his hat over his eyes and a cigar 
between his lips. A boy brought me a tankard of tawny 
Munich beer, and, sipping it» I watched. People passed in 
and out, but nobody spoke to the sailor in mufti. When a 
quarter of an hour elapsed, a platform door opened, and a 
raucous voice shouted : ' Hage, Domum, Esens, Wittmund ! ' 
A knot of passengers jostled out to the platform, showing 
their tickets. I was slow over my beer, and was last of the 
knoti with von Bruning immediately ahead of me, so dose 



THE SEVEN 8IELS 899 

ttiat his cigar smoke curled into my face. I looked over Ma 
shoulder at the ticket he showed, missed the name, but caught 
a muttered double sibilant from the official who checked it ; 
ran over the stations in my head, and pounced on Esem, 

That was as much as I wanted to know for the present ; 
so I made my way to a fourth-class compartment, and lost 
sight of my querry, not venturing, till the last door had 
banged, to look out of the window. When I did so two 
late arrivals were hurrying up to a carriage — one tall, one 
of middle height; both in cloaks and comforters. Their 
features I could not distinguish, but certainly neither of 
them was Bohme. They had not come through the waiting 
room door, but, plainly, from the dark end of the platform, 
where they had been waiting. A guard, with some surly 
remonstrances, shut them in, and the train started. 

Esens — the name had not surprised me ; it fulfilled a 
presentiment that had been growing in strength all the 
afternoon. For the last time I referred to the map, pulpy 
and blurred with the day's exposure, and tried to etch it 
into my brain. I marked the road to Bensersiel, and how 
it converged by degrees on the Benser Tief until they met 
at the sea. ' The tide serves I ' Longing for Davies to help 
me, I reckoned, by the aid of my diary, that high-tide at 
Bensersiel would be about eleven, and for two hours, I 
remembered (say from ten to twelve to-night), there were 
from five to six feet of water in the harbour. 

We should reach Esens at 8.60. Would they drive, as 
von Bruning had done a week ago? I tightened my belt, 
stamped my mud-burdened boots, and thanked Ood for the 
Munich beer. Whither were they going from Bensersiel, 
and in what ; and how was I to follow them ? These were 
nebulous questions, but I was in fettle for anything ; boat* 
stealing was a bagatelle. Fortune, I thought, smiled; 
Romance beckoned, even the sea looked kind. Ay, and I 
do not know but that Imagination was already beginning to 
unstiffen and flutter those nerveless wings. 



800 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



CHAPTER XXVII 

THE LUGE OF THE STOWAWAY 

At Esens Station I reversed my Norden tactics, jumped 
out smartly and got to the door of egress first of all, gaye up 
my ticket, and hung about the gate of the station under 
cover of darkness. Fortune smiled still ; there was no 
vehicle in waiting at aU, and there were only half-a-dozen 
passengers. Two of these were the cloaked gentlemen 
who had been so nearly left behind at Norden, and another 
was von Briining. The latter walked well in advance of 
the first pair, but at the gate on to the high road the three 
showed a common purpose, in that, unlike the rest who 
turned towards Esens town, they turned southwards ; much 
to my perplexity, for this was the contrary direction to 
Bensersiel and the sea. 

I, with my bundle on my shoulder, had been bringing 
up the rear, and, as their faithful shadow, turned to the 
right too, without foreseeing the consequence. When it 
was too late to turn back I saw that, fifty yards ahead, 
the road was barred by the gates of a level crossing, 
and that the four of us must inevitably accumulate 
at the barrier till the train had steamed away. This 
in fact happened, and for a minute or two we were all in 
a group, elaborately indifferent to one another, silent, but 
I am sure very conscious. As for me, * secret laughter 
tickled all my soul.' When the gates were opened the 
three seemed disposed to lag, so I tactfully took my cue, 
trudged briskly on ahead, and stopped after a few minutes 



THE LUCK OF THE STOWAWAY 801 

to listen. Hearing nothing I went cautiously back and 
found that they had disappeared ; in which direction was not 
long in doubt, for I came on a grassy path leading into the 
fields on the left or west of the road, and though I could 
see no one I heard the distant murmur of receding* voices. 

I took my bearings collectedly, placed one foot on the 
path, thought better of it, and turned back towards Esens. 
I knew without reference to the map that that path would 
bring them to the Benser Tief at a point somewhere near 
the timber-yard. In a fog I might have followed them 
there ; as it was, the night was none too dark and I had my 
strength to husband; and stamped on my memory were 
the words ' the tide serves.' I judged it a wiser use of 
time and sihew to anticipate them at Bensersiel by the 
shortest road, leaving them to reach it by way of the 
devious Tief, to examine which was, I felt convinced, one of 
their objects. 

It was nine o'clock of a fresh wild night, a halo round 
the beclouded moon. I passed thror^h quiet Esens, and in 
an hour I was close to Bensersiel, and could hear the sea. 
In the rooted idea that I should find Grimm on the out- 
skirts, awaiting visitors, I left the road short of the village, 
and made a circuit to the harbour by way of the sea-wall. The 
lower windows of the inn shed a warm glow into the night, 
and within I could see the village circle gathered over 
cards and dominated as of old by the assertive little post- 
master, whose high-pitched, excitable voice I could clearly 
distinguish, as he sat with his cap on the back of his head 
and a ' f eine schnapps ' at his elbow. The harbour itself 
looked exactly the same as I remembered it a week ago. 
The post-boat lay in her old berth at the eastern jetty, her 
mainsail set and her twin giants spitting over her rail. I 
hailed them boldly from the shore (without showing them 
who I was) and was told they were starting for Langeoog 
in a few minutes ; the wind was off-shore, the mails aboard 
and the water just high enough. ' Did I want a passage ? ' 



801 THE BIDDLB OF THE SANDS 

'Koy I ihoaght I would wait.' Positive that my paitj 
ooold never have got here so soon, I nevertheless kept aa 
eye on the galliot till she let go her stem-rope and slid away. 
One contingency was eliminated. Borne loiterers dispersed, 
and all port business appeared to be ended for the nighl. 

Three-quarters of an hour of strained suspense ensned. 
Most of it I spent on my knees in a dark angle between the 
dyke and the western jetty, whence I had a strategic survey 
of the basin ; but I was cbiven at times to relieve inaction 
by sallies which increased in audacity. I scouted on the 
road beyond the bridge, hovered round the lock, and peered 
in at the inn parlour ; but nowhere could I see a trace of 
Orimm. I examined every floating object in the harbour 
(they were very few), dropped on to two lighters and pried 
under tarpaulins, boarded a deserted tug and two or three 
clumsy rowboats tied up to a mooring-post. Only one of 
these had the look of readiness, the rest being devoid of 
oars and rowlocks; a discouraging state of things for a 
prospective boat-lifter. It was the sight of these rowboats 
that suggested a last and most distracting possibility, 
namely, that the boat in waiting, if boat there were, might 
be not in the harbour at all but somewhere on the sands 
outside the dyke, where, at this high stage of the tide, it 
would have water and to spare. Back to the dyke then ; 
but as I peered seaward on the way, contingencies 
evaporated and a solid fact supervened, for I saw the 
lights of a steamboat approaching the harbour mouth. I 
had barely time to gain my coign of vantage before she had 
swept in between the piers, and with a fitful swizzling of 
her screw was turning and backing down to a berth just 
ahead of one of the lighters, and not fifty feet from my 
hiding-place. A deck-hand jumped ashore with a rope 
while the man at the wheel gave gruff directions. The 
vessel was a small tug, and the man at the wheel disclosed 
his identity when, having rung off his engines, he jumped 
ashore also, looked at his watch in the beam of tlM side- 



THE LUCK OP THE STOWAWAY 808 

light and walked towards the village. It was Orimm, by the 
height and build — Orimm clad in a long tarpaulin coat and 
a sou'-wester. I watched him cross the shaft of light from 
the inn window and disappear in the direction of the canal. 

Another sailor now appeared and helped his fellow to 
tie np the tug. The two together then went aft and be- 
gan to set about some job whose nature I could not 
determine. To emerge was perilous, so I set about a job 
of my own, tearing open my bundle and pulling an oilskin 
jacket and trousers over my clothes, and discarding my 
peaked caj^for a sou'-wester. This operation was prompted 
instantaneously by the garb of two sailors, who in hauling on 
the forward warp came into the field of the mast-head light. 

It was something of a gymnastic masterpiece, since I 
was lying or rather standing aslant on the rough sea-wall, 
with crannies of brick for foothold and the water plashing 
below me ; but then I had not Uved in the ' Dulcibella ' for 
nothing. My chain of thought, I fancy, was this — the tug 
is to carry my party ; I cannot shadow a tug in a rowboat, 
yet I intend to shadow my party ; I must therefore go with 
them in the tug, and the first and soundest step is to mimic 
her crew. 

But the next step was a hard matter, for the crew having 
finished their job sat side by side on the bulwarks and lit 
their pipes. However, a UtUe pantomime soon occurred, as 
amusing as it was inspiriting. They seemed to consult 
together, looking from the tug to the inn and from the inn 
to the tug. One of them walked a few paces inn-wards and 
beckoned to the other, who in his turn called something 
down the engine-room skylight, and then joined his mate 
in a scuttle to the inn. Even while I watched the panto- 
mime I was sliding off my boots, and it had not been 
consummated a second before I had them in my arms and 
was tripping over the mud in my stocking-feet. A dozen 
noiseless steps and I was over the bulwarks between the 
wheel and the smoke-stack, casting about for a hiding-place. 



MM THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

The oonveiitional stowaway hides in the hold, bat there waa 
only a stokehold here, occupied moreover; nor was there 
an empty apple-barrel, such as Jim of ' Treasure Island ' 
found so usef uL As far as I could see — and I dared not 
venture far for fear of the skylight — the surface of the deck 
offered nothing secure. But on the farther or starboard 
aide, rather abaft the beam, there was a smaU boat in davits, 
swung outboard, to which common-sense and perhaps a 
vague prescience of its after utility pointed irresistibly. In 
any case, discrimination was out of place so I mounted the 
bulwark and gently entered my refuge. The tackles creaked 
a trifle, oars and seats impeded me ; but well before the 
thirsty truants had returned, I was settled on the floor- 
boards between two thwarts, so placed that I could, if neces- 
sary, peep over the gunwale. 

The two sailors returned at a run, and very soon after 
voices approached, and I recognised that of Herr Schenkel 
chattering volubly. He and Grimm boarded the tug and 
went down a companion-way aft, near which, as I peeped 
over, I saw a second skyHght, no bigger than the ' Duld- 
bella's,' illuminated from below. Then I heard a cork 
drawn, and the kiss of glasses, and in a minute or two they 
re-emerged. It was apparent that Herr Schenkel was 
inclined to stay and make merry, and that Orimm was 
anxious to get rid of him, and none too courteous in show- 
ing it. The former urged that to-morrow's tide would do, 
the latter gave orders to cast off, and at length observed 
with an angry oath that the water was falling, and' he must 
start ; and, to clinch matters, with a curt good-night, he went 
to the wheel and rang up his engines. Herr Schenkel landed 
and strutted off in high dudgeon, while the tug's screw 
began to revolve. We had only glided a few yards on when 
the engines stopped, a short blast of the whistle sounded, 
and, before I had had time to recast the future, I heard a 
scurry of footsteps from the direction of the dyke, first on 
the bank next on the deck. The last of these new arrivals 



THE LUCK OP^THE STOWAWAY 805 

panted audibly as he got aboard and dropped on the 
planks with an onelastio thad. 

Her oomplement made up, the tug left the harbour, but 
not alone. While slowly gathering way the hull cheeked 
all at onoe with a sharp jerk, recovered and increased its 
speed. We had something in tow — ^what ? The lighter, of 
course, that had been lying astern of us. 

Now I knew what was in that lighter because I had 
been to see, half an hour ago. It was no lethal cargo, but 
coal, common household coal; not a full load of it, I 
remembered— just a good-sized mound amidships trimmed 
with battens fore and aft to prevent shifting. 'Well,' 
thought I, ' this is intelligible enough. Grimm was osten- 
sibly there to call for a load of coal for Memmert. But 
does that mean we are going to Memmert? ' At the same 
time I recalled a phrase overheard at the depdt, ' Only one — 
half a load.' Why half a load 9 

For some few minutes there was a good deal of move- 
ment on deck, uid of orders shouted by Orimm and 
answered by a voice from far astern on the Ughter. Pre- 
sently, however, the tug warmed to her work, the hull 
vibrated with energy and an ordered peace reigned on 
board. I also realised that having issued from the boomed 
channel we had turned westward, for the wind, which had 
been following us fair, now blew strongly over the port 
beam. 

I peeped out of my eyrie and was satisfied in a moment 
that as long as I made no noise and observed proper pru- 
dence, I was perfectly safe tmtil the boat was wanted. 
There were no deck lamps ; the two skylights diffused but 
a sickly radiance, and I was abaft the side-lights. I was 
abaft the wheel (dso, though thnllingly near it in point of 
distance — about twelve feet, I should say ; and Orimm was 
steering. The wheel, X should mention here, was raised, as 
you often see them, on a sort of pulpit, approached by two 
or three steps imd fenced by a breast-high arc of boarding, 

X 



806 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

Only one of the crew was Tisibley and he was acting as 
look-oat in the extreme bows, the lays of the masthead 
lights — for a second had been hoisted in sign of towage — 
gUstening on his oilskin back. The other man, I concluded, 
was steering the lighter, which I could dimly locate by the 
pale foam at her bow. 

And the passengers ? They were all together aft, three 
of them, leaning over the tafi^ail, with their backs turned 
to me. One was short and stent — Bdhme unquestionably ; 
the panting and the thud on the planks had prepared me 
for Ihat, though where he had sprung from 1 did not know. 
Two were tall, and one of these must be von Bruning. 
There ought to be four, I reckoned ; but three were all I 
oould see. And what of the third ? It must be he who 
' insists on coming,' the unknown superior at whose instance 
and for whose behoof this secret expedition had been 
planned. And who could he be? Many times, needless 
to say, I had asked myself that question, but never till now, 
when I had found the rendezvous and joined the expedition, 
did it become one of burning import. 

' Any weather ' was another of those stored-up phrases 
that were d propos. It was a dirty, squally night, not very 
cold, for the wind still hung in the S.B.W. — an off-shore 
wind on this coast, causing no appreciable sea on the shoal 
spaces we were traversing. In the matter gf our bearings, 
I set myself doggedly to overcome that paralysing perplexity, 
always induced in me by night or fog in these intricate 
waters ; and, by screwing round and round, succeeded so 
far as to discover and identify two flashing lights, one 
alternately red and white, far and faint astern ; the other 
light ahead and rather stronger, giving white flashes only. 
The first and least familiar was, I made out, from the light- 
house on Wangeroog ; the second, well known to me as 
our beacon star in the race from Memmert, was the light 
on the centre of Norderney island, about ten miles away. 

I had no accurate idea of the time, for I could not see 



THE LUCK OP THE STOWAWAY 807 

m; watoh, but I thou^t we must have started about a 
quarter past eleven. We were travelling fast, the funnel 
belching out smoke and the bow- wave curHng high ; for 
the tug appeared to be a powerful little craft, and her load 
was comparatively light. 

Bo much for the general situation. As for my own 
predicament, I was in no mood to brood on the hazards 
of this mad ad\enture, a hundredfold more hazardous 
than my fog-smothered eaves-dropping at Memmert. The 
crisis, I knew, had come, and the reckless impudence that 
had brought me here must serve me still and extricate 
me. Fortune loves rough wooing. I backed my luck and 
watched. 

The behaviour of the passengers struck me as odd. 
They remained in a row at the taffirail, gazing astern like 
regretful emigrants, and sometimes gesticulating and point- 
ing. Now no vestige of the low land was visible, so I was 
driven to the conclusion that it was the lighter they were 
discussing; and I date my awakening from the moment 
that I realised this. But the thread broke prematurely; 
for the passengers took to pacing the deck, and I had to lie 
low. When next I was able to raise my head they were 
round Grimm at the wheel, engaged, as far as I could 
discover from their gestures, in an argument about our 
course and the time, for Grimm looked at his watch by the 
light of a hand-lantern. 

We were heading north, and I knew by the swell that 
we must be near the Accumer Ee, the gap between 
Langeoog and Baltrum. Were we going out to open sea f 
It came over me with a rush that we must if we were to 
drop this Ughter at Memmert. Had I been Davies I should 
have been quicker to seize certain rigid condiidons of this 
cruise, which no human power could modify. We had left 
after high tide. The water therefore was falling every- 
where; and the tributary channels in rear of the islands 
were sbwly growing impassable. It was quite thirty 

x3 



808 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

milefl to Memmert^ with three watersheds to pass ; behind 
Baltmm, Nordemey and Juist. A skipper with nerve and 
perfect oonfidenoe might take us over one of these in the 
dark, but most of the mn would infallibly have to be made 
outside. I now better understood the protests of Herr 
Bohenkel to Qrimm. Never onoe had we seen a lighter in 
tow in the open sea, though plenty behind the barrier of 
islands ; indeed it was the very existence of the sheltered 
byways that created such traffic as there was. It was only 
Grimm's mMier and the incubus of the lighter that had 
suggested Memmert as our destination at all, and I began 
to doubt it now. That tricky hoop of sand had befooled us 
b^ore. 

At this moment, and as if to corroborate my thought, 
ibB telegraph rang and the tug slowed down. I efiGsused my- 
self and heard Orimm shouting to the man on the lighter to 
starboard his helm, and to the look-out to come aft. The 
next order froze my very marrow : it was ' lower away.' 
Some one was at the davits of my boat fingering Oi% 
tackles; the forward fall-rope actually slipped in the block 
atid tilted the boat a fraction. I was just wondering how far 
it was to swim to Langeoog, when a strong imperious voice 
(unknown to me) rang out, ' No, no i We don't want the 
boat. The swell's nothing: we can jumpl Can't we, 
Bohme ? ' The speaker ended with a jovial laugh. ' Mercy I ' 
thought I, ' are they going to swim to Langeoog ? ' but I 
also gasped for relief. The tug rolled lifelessly in the 
swell for a Httle, and footsteps retreated aft. There were, 
cries of * Achtung I ' and some laughter, one big bump and 
a good deal of grinding ; and on we moved again, taking 
the strain of the tow-rope gingerly, and then full-speed 
ahead. The passengers, it seemed, preferred the lighter to 
the tug for cruising in, coal-dust and exposure to clean 
planks and a warm cuddy. When silence reigned again I 
peeped out. Orimm was at the wheel still, impassively 
twirling the spokes, without a glance over his shoulder al 



THE LUCK OF THE STOWAWAY 809 

his predoos freight. And, after all, we were going out- 
side. 

Olose on the port hand lay a blaok foam-girt shape, the 
east spit of Baltram. It fused with the night, while we 
swung slowly round to windward over the troubled bar. 
Now we were in the spacious deeps of the North Sea ; and 
feeling it too in increase of swell and volleys of spray. 

At this point evolutionB began. Grimm gave the wheel 
op to the look-out, and himself went to the tafErail whence 
he roared back orders of 'Port!' or 'Starboard!' in 
response to signals from the Ughter. We made one com- 
plete circle, steering on each point of the wind in succession, 
after that worked straight out to sea till the water was a 
good deal rougher, and back again at a tangent, till in ear- 
shot of the surf on the island beach. There the manoeuvreSi 
which were clearly in the nature of a trial trip, ended ; and 
we hove to, to tranship our passengers. They, when they 
came aboard, went straight below, and Qrimm, having 
steadied the tug on a settled course and entrusted the wheel 
to the sailor again, stripped off his dripping oilskin coat, 
threw it down on the cabin skyUght, and followed them. 
The course he had set was about west, with Nordemey light 
a couple of points off the port bow. The course for Mem- 
mert ? Possibly ; but I cared not, for my mind was far 
from Memmert and to-night. It was the course for Eng- 
land too. Yes, I understood at last. I was assisting at an 
experimental rehearsal of a great scene, to be enacted, perhaps, 
in the near future — a scene when multitudes of sea-going 
lighters, carrying full loads of soldiers, not half-loads of 
coal, should issue simultaneously, in seven ordered fleets, 
from seven shallow outlets, and, under escort of the Im- 
perial Navy, traverse the North Sea and throw themselves 
bodily upon English shores. 

Indulgent reader, you may be pleased to say that I had 
been very obtuse ; and yet, with humility, I protest against 
that verdict. Bemember that, recent as are the events I 



s 



810 THE RIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

•m desoribing, it is only since they happened that the 
possibility of an invasion of England by Oennany has 
become a topic of public discussion. Davies and I had 
never — ^I was going to say had never considered it ; but that 
would not be accurate, for we had glanced at it once or 
twice ; and if any single incident in his or our joint cruise 
had provided a semblance of confirmation, he, at any rate, 
would have kindled to that spark. But you will see how 
perversely from first to last circumstances drove us deeper 
and deeper into the wrong groove, till the idea became 
inveterate that the secret we were seeking was one of 
defence and not offence. Hence a complete mental somer- 
sault was required, and, as an amateur, I found it difficult ; 
the more so that the method of invasion, as I darkly com- 
prehended it now, was of such a strange and unprecedented 
character ; for orthodox invasions start from big ports and 
involve a fleet of ocean transports, while none of our clues 
pointed that way. To neglect obvious methods, to draw 
on the obscure resources of an obscure strip of coast, to 
improve and exploit a quantity of insignificant streams and 
tidal outlets, and thence, screened by the islands, to 
despatch an armada of light-draught barges, capable of 
flinging themselves on a correspondingly obscure and 
therefore unexpected portion of the enemy's coast; that 
was a conception so daring, aye, and so quixotic in some of 
its aspects, that even now I was half incredulous. Yet it 
must be the true one. Bit by bit the fragments of the 
puzzle fell into order tiU a coherent whole was adumbrated.^ 
The tug surged on into the night; a squaU of rsdn 
leapt upon us and swept hissing astern. Baltrum vanished, 
and the strands of Nordemey beamed under transient 
moonlight. Drunk with triumph, I cuddled in my rocking 
cradle and ransacked every unvisited chamber of the 
memory, tossing out their dusty contents, to make a joyous 

1 The reader will find the whole matter dealt with in the 
Epilogoe, 



THE LUCK OP THE STOWAWAY 811 

bonfire of some, and to see the residue take life and mean- 
ing in the light of the great revelation. 

My reverie was of things, not persons ; of vast national 
issues rather than of the poignant human interests so 
closely linked with them. But on a sudden I was recalled 
with a shock to myself Davies, and the present. 

We were changing our course, as I knew by variations 
in the whirl t)f draughts which whistled about me. I heard 
Grimm afoot again and, choosing my moment, surveyed 
the scene. Broad on the port-beam were the garish lights 
of Nordemey town and promenade, and the tug, I per- 
ceived, was drawing in to enter the See Gat.^ Bound she 
came, hustling through the broken water of the bar, till her 
nose was south and the wind was on the starboard bow. Not 
a mile from me were the villa and the yacht, and the three 
persons of the drama — three, that is, if Davies were safe. 

Were we to land at Nordemey harbour? Heavens, 
what a magnificent climax 1 — if only I could rise to it. 
My work here was done. At a stroke to rejoin Davies and 
be free to consummate our designs ! 

A desperate idea of cutting the davit-tackles — I blush 
to think of its stupidity — was rejected as soon as it was 
bom, and instead, I endeavoured to imagine our approach 
to the pier. My boat hung on the starboard side; that 
would be the side away from the quay, and the tide would 
be low. I could swarm down the davits during the stir of 
arrival, drop into the sea and swim the few yards across 
the dredged-out channel, wade through the mud to within 
a short distance of the ' Dulcibella ' and swim the rest. I 
rubbed the salt out of my eyes and wriggled my cramped 
legs. . . . Hullo 1 why was Grimm leaving the helm again? 
Back he went to the cabin, leaving the sailor at the helm. 
, , . We ought to be turning to port now ; but no— on we 
went, south, for the mainland: 

> S«e Chart at page 219. 



818 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 

Though one plan was fnutraiedf the Ioi^;ing to get to 
Dayiea, onoe implanted^ waxed apaoe. 

Onr destination was at last beyond dispute.^ The 
channel we were in was the same we had out across on onr 
blind voyage to Memmert, and the same my ferry-steamer 
had followed two days ago. It was a ctU-de-sae leading 
to one plaoe only, the landing stage at Norddeich. The 
only plaoe on the ^R^le coast, now I came to think of it, 
where ttie tug could land at this tide. There the quay 
would be on the starboard side, and I saw myself tied to my 
eyrie while the passengers landed and the tug and lighteor 
turned back for Memmert ; at Memmert, dawn, and dis- 
covery. 

There was some way out — some way out, I repeated to 
myself; some way to reap the fruit of Davies's long 
tutelage in the lore of this strange region. What would 
he do? 

For answer there came that familiar yn>u-/rott of gentle 
surf on drying sands. The swell was dying away, the 
channel narrowing; dusky and weird on the starboard 
hand stretched leagues of new-risen sand. Two men only 
were on deck ; the moon was quenched under the vanguard 
clouds of a fresh squalL 

A madcap scheme danced before me. The time, I 
must know the timet Crouching low and cloaking the 
flame with my jacket I struck a match ; half -past two a.h. 
— the tide had been ebbing for about three hours and a 
half. Low water about five ; they would be aground till 
7.80. Danger to life? None. Flares and rescuers? 
Not likely, with ' him who insists ' on board ; besides, no 
one could come, there being no danger. I should have a 
fair wind and a fair tide for my trip. Grimm's coat was 
on the skylight ; we were both dean-shaved. 

The helmsman gazed ahead, intent on his difficult 

* SseOhiirt 



THE LUOK OF THE STOWAWAY 818 

eonrse, and the wind howled to perf eotion. I knelt np and 
examined one of the davit-tackles. Theze was nothing 
remarkable about it, a double and a single block (like our 
own peak halyards), the lower one hooked into a ring in the 
boat, the hauling part made fast to a cleat on the davit 
itself. Something there must be to give lateral support or 
the boat would have racketed abroad in the roll outside. 
The support, I found, consisted of two lanyards spliced to 
the davits and rove through holes in the keel. These I 
leaned over and cut with my pocket-knife ; the result being 
a barely perceptible swaying of the boat, for the tug was 
under the lee of sands and on an even keeL Then I left 
my hiding-place, climbing out of the stem sheets by the 
after-davit, and preparing every successive motion with 
exquisite tenderness, till I stood on the deck. In another 
moment I was at the cabin skylight, lifting Grimm's long 
oilskin coat. (A second's yielding to temptation here ; but 
no, the skylight was ground glass, fastened from below.) 
So, on with the coat, up with the collar, and forward to the 
wheel on tiptoe ! As soon as I was up to the engine-room 
skylight (that is to say, well ahead of the cabin roof) I 
assumed a natural step, went up to the pulpit and touched 
the helmsman on the arm, as I had seen Oiimm do. The 
man stepped aside, grunting something about a light, and 
I took the wheel from him. Orimm was a man of few 
words, so I just jogged his satellite, and pointed forward. 
He went off like a lamb to his customary place in the bows, 
not having dreamt — ^why should he? — of examining me, 
but in him I had instantly recognised one of the crew of 
the ' Kormoran.' 

My ruse developed in all its delicious simplicity. We 
were, I estimated, about half way to Norddeich, in the 
Buse Tief , a channel of a navigable breadth, at the utmost of 
two hundred yards at this period of the tide. Two faint 
lights, one above the other, twinkled far ahead. What they 
meant I neither knew nor oared, since the only use I put 



814 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

them to was to test the effeot of the wheel, for this was the 
first tLme I had ever tasted the sweets of command on a 
steamhoai A few cautioas essays taught me the rudi- 
ments, and nothing could hinder the catastrophe now. 

I edged over to starboard — that was the side I had 
selected — and again a little more, till the glistening back of 
the look-out gave a slight movement ; but he was a well- 
drilled minion, with implicit trust in the ' old man.' Now, 
hard over 1 and spoke by spoke I gave her the full pressure 
of the helm. The look-out shouted a warning, and I 
raised my arm in cabn acknowledgment. A cry came from 
the lighter, and I remember I was just thinking 'What 
the Dickens'll happen to her?' when the end came; a 
euthanaHa so mild and gradual (for the sands are fringed 
with mud) that the disaster was on us before I was aware 
of it There was just the tiniest premonitory shuddering 
as our keel clove the buttery medium, a cascade of ripples 
from either beam, and the wheel jammed to rigidity in my 
hands, as the tug nestled up to her resting-place. 

In the scene of panic that followed, it is safe to say that 
I was the only soul on board who acted with methodical 
tranquillity. The look-out flew astern like an arrow, 
bawling to the lighter. Grimm, with the passengers 
tumbling up after him, was on deck in an instant, storming 
and cursing ; flung himself on the wheel which I had 
respectfully abandoned, jangled the telegraph and wrenched 
at the spokes. The tug listed over under the force of the 
tide ; wind, darkness, and rain aggravated the confusion. 

For my part, I stepped back behind the smoke-stack, 
threw off my robe of office, and made for the boat. Long and 
bitter experience of running aground had told me that that 
was sure to be wanted. On the way I cannoned into one of 
the passengers and pressed him into my service ; incidentally 
seeing his face, and verifying an old conjecture. It was one 
who, in Germany, has a better right to insist than any one 
else. 



THE LUCK OF THE STOWAWAY 816 

As we reaohed the davits there was a report like a 
pistol-shot from the port-side — the tow-rope parting, I 
believe, as the lighter with her shallower draught swung 
on past the tug. Fresh tumult arose, in whioh I heard : 
* Lower the boat/ from Grimm; but the order was already 
executed. My ally the Passenger and I had each oast off a 
tackle, and slacked away with a run ; that done, I promptly 
clutched the wire guy to steady myself, and tumbled in. 
(It was not far to tumble, for the tug listed heavily to 
starboard; think of our course and the set of the ebb 
stream, and you will see why.) The forward fall unhooked 
sweetly; but the after one lost play. 'Slack away,' I 
called peremptorily, and felt for my 'knife. My helper 
above obeyed ; the hook yielded ; I filliped away tiie loose 
tackle, and the boat floated away. 



816 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 



OHAPTEB XXVin 

WB AOHIBYB OUB D0X7BLB AIM 

Whbm, exactly, the atmosphere of misunderstanding on the 
stranded tog was dissipated, I do not know, for by the time 
I had fitted the rowlocks and shipped sonlls, tide and wind 
had caaght me, and were sweeping me merrily back on the 
zoad to Nordemey, whose lights twinkled throngb the send 
in the north. With my first few strokes I made towards 
ttie lighter, which I conld see sagging helplessly to leeward ; 
bnt as soon as I thought I was out of sight of the tug, I 
poUed round and worked out my own salvation. There 
was an outburst of shouting which soon died away. Full 
speed on a falling tide 1 They were pinned there for five 
hours sure. 

It was impossible to miss the way, and with my stout 
allies heaving me forward, I made short work of the two- 
mile passage. There was a sharp tussle at the last, where 
the BiS QbX poured its stream across my path, and then I 
was craning over my shoulder, Ood knows with what tense 
anxiety, for the low hull and taper mast of the 'Duid- 
hella.' Not there 1 No, not where I had left her. I 
pulled furiously up the harbour past a sleeping ferry- 
steamer and — praise Heaven l^Hsame on her warped along- 
side the jetty. 

< Who's that f ' came from below, as I stepped on board. 

'Hushl it's me,' and Davies and I were pawing one 
another in the dark of the cabin. 

'Are you all right, old chap? ' said be. 



WE ACHIEVE OUR DOUBLE AIM 817 

'Tes;are70Ti? A match! What's the time? Quick!* 

' Oood heavens, Carrathers, what the blazes have you 
ione to yourself ? ' (I suspect I out a pretty figure liter 
my two days' outing.) 

'Ten past three. It's the invasion of England! Is 
DoUmann at the villa 9 * 

' Invasion ? ' 

' Is Dollmann at the villa ? * 

•Yes.' 

< Is the "Medusa" afloat ? * 

'No, on the mud.' 

* The devil I Are we afloat ? ' 

' I think so still, but they made me shift.' 

* Think ? Track her out ! Pole her out ! Out those 
warps ! ' 

For a few strenuous minutes we toiled at the sweepSi^ 
till the * Duldbella ' was berthed ahead of the steamer, in 
deeper water. Meanwhile I had whispered a few facts. 

' How soon can you get under way ? ' I asked. 

* Ten minutes.' 

« When's daylight ? ' 

'Sunrise about seven, first dawn about five* Where 
are we bound ? ' 

' Holland, or England.' 

* Are they invading it now ? ' said Davies, calmly. 
' No, only rehearsing ! ' I laughed wildly. 

* Thsi^L we can wait.' 

* We can wait exactly an hour and a half. Gome ashore 
and knock up Dollmann ; we must denounce him, and get 
them both aboard ; it's now or never. Holy Saints ! man, 
not as you are ! ' (he was in pyjamas). ' Sea clothes ! ' 

WMle he put on Ghristiaii attire, I resumed my facts 
and sketched a plan. ' Are you watched ? ' I asked. 

* I think so ; by the '< Eormoran's " men.' 
'Is the " Sormoran " here? ' 

'Yes.' 



818 ' THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

< The men?' 

'Not to-nighi Grimm called for them in that tag. I 
was watching. And, Oarrnthera, the '' Blitz " is heie.' 

'Where?' 

' In the roads outside—didn't you see her ? ' 

'Wasn't looking. Her skipper's safe anyway; so's 
Bohme, so's the Tertium Quid, and so are the " Kormoran'a " 
men. The coast's clear — ^it's now or never.' 

Once more we were traversing the long jetty and the 
silent streets, rain driving at our backs. We trod on air, 
I think ; I remember no fatigue. Davies sometimes broke 
into a little run, muttering ' scoundrel ' to himself. 

'I was right— only upside dc^wn,' he murmured more 
than once. 'Always really right — tiiose channels are the 
key to the whole concern. Chatham, our only eastern base* 
—no North Sea base or squadron — they'd land at one of 
those God-forsaken flats off the Grouch and Blackwater.' 

' It seems a wild scheme,' I observed. 

'Wild? In a way. So is mn) invasion. But it's 
thorough ; it's German. No other country could do it. It's 
all dawning on me — by Jove I It will be at the Wa^h — 
much the nearest, and as sandy as this side.' 

'How's Dollmann been? ' I asked. 

' Polite, but queer and jumpy. It's too long a story.' 

•Clara?' 

' SMz all right. By Jove I Oarruthers — never mind.' 

We found a night-bell at the villa door and rang it 
lustily. A window aloft opened, and 'A message from 
Commander von Bruning — ^urgent,' I called up. 

The window shut, and soon i^ter the hall was lighted . 
and the door opened by Dollmann in a dressing-gown. 

' Good morning, Lieutenant X ^ I said in English* 

' Stop, we're friends, you fool ! ' as the door was flung • 
nearly to. It opened very slowly again, and we walked in. 

' Silence I ' he hissed. The sweat stood on his steep 
forehead and a hectic flush on either cheek, but there was a 



WE ACHIEVE OUR DOUBLE AIM 819 

. Bmile — ^what a smile I — on his lips. Motioning us to tread 
noiselessly (a vain ideal for me), lie led the way to the 
sitting-room we knew, switched on the light and faced ns. 

' Well ? ' he said in English, still smiling. 

I consxdted my watch, and I may say that if my hand 
was an index to my general appearance, I must have looked 
the most abject ruffian under heaven. 

'We probably understand one another,' I said, 'and to 
explain is to lose time. We sail for Holland, or perhaps 
England, at five at the latest, and we want the pleasure of 
your company. We promise you immunity — on certain con- 
ditions, which can wait. We have only two berths, so that 
we can only accommodate Miss Clara besides yourself.' 
He smiled on through this terse harangue, but the smile 
froze, as though beneath it raged some crucial debate. 
Suddenly he laughed (a low, ironical laugh). 

' Tou fools,' he said, ' you confounded meddlesome young 
idiots; I thought I had done with you. Promise me 
immunity ? Give me till five ? By God, I'll give you five 
minutes to be off to England and be damned to you, or else to 
be locked up for spies ! What the devil do you take me for f ' 

'A traitor in German service,' said Davies, none too 
firmly. We were both taken back by this slashing attack. 

* A tr— — ? You pig-headed young marplots I I'm in 
British service I You're wrecking the work of years — ^and 
on the very threshold of success.' 

For an instant Davies and I looked at one another in 
stupefaction. He lied — I could swear he lied; but how 
make sure ? 

* Why did you try to wreck Davies ? ' said I, mechani- 
cally. 

* Pshaw I They made me clear him out. I knew he 
. was safe, and safe he is.' 

There was only one thing for it — a last finesse, to put 
him to the proof. 

'Very welL' I said, after a moment or two, 'we'll dear 



880 THE BIDDLE OF THE BANDS 



out — Bilenoe^ Dayies t — as it appears we have acted in error ; 
but it's right to tdl you that we know eyerything.' 

' Not 80 loud, oorse you I What do you know ? ' 

' I was taking notes at Memmert the other nighi* 

'Lnposaiblet' 

' Thanks to Dayies. Under difficulties, of conrse, but I 
beard quite enough. Yon were reporting your English 
tour — Chatham, you know, and the English scheme of 
attack, a mythioid one, no doubt, as you're on the right 
side I B^mie and the rest were dealing with the German 
scheme of defence. A to O — ^I heard it all — the seven 
islands and the seven channels between them (Davies knows 
every one of them by heart) ; and then on land, the ring of 
railway, Esens the centre, the army corps to mobilise and 
entrench — all nugatory, wasted, ha I ha I — as you're on the 
rights * 

' Not so loud, you fiend of mischief I ' He turned his 
back, and made an irresolute pace or two towards the door, 
his hands kneading the folds of his dressing-gown as they 
had kneaded the curtain at Memmert. Twice he began a 
question and twice broke off. ' I congratulate you, gentle- 
men,' he said finally, and witii more composure^ facing us 
agiun, * you have done marvels in your misplaced zeal ; but 
you have compromised me too much already. I shall have 
to have you arrested — ^purely for form's sake ' 

< Thank you,' I broke in. ' We have wasted five minutes, 
and time presses. We sail at five, and— purely for form's 
sake — ^would rather have you with us.' 

' What do you mean f ' he snarled. 

'I had the advantage of you at Memmert, in spite of 
acoustic obstacles. Your friends made an appointment 
behind your back, and I, in my misplaced zeal, have taken 
some trouble to attend it; so that I've had a working 
demonstration on another matter, the invasion of England 
from the seven neb.' (Davies nudged me.) ' No, I should 
let that pistol alone; and no, I wouldn't ring the belL 



WE AOHIEYE OUB DOUBLE AIM 821 

Tou can arrest as if you like, but the secret's in safe 
himds.' 

'You lie I' He was right there; but he oould not 
know it. 

' Do you suppose I haven't taken that precaution ? But 
no names are mentioned.' He gave a sort of groan, sank 
into a chair, and seemed to age and grizzle before our very 
eyes. 

'What did you say about immunity, and Clara?' he 
muttered. 

' We're friends — we're friends,' burst out Davies, with a 
gulp in his voice. * We want to help you both.' (Through 
a sudden mist that filmed my eyes I saw him impetuously 
walk over and lay his hand on the other's shoulder.) 
* Those chaps are on our track and yours. Gome with us. 
Wake her, tell her. It'll be too late soon.' 

X shrank from his touch. ' Tell her f I can't tell 

her. Tou tell her, boy.' He was huddling back into his 
chair. Davies turned to me. 

'Where's h^ room? ' I said sharply. 

' Above this one.' 

' Go up, Garruthers,' said Davies. 

< Not I — I shall frighten her into a fit.' 

•Idon'tUketo.' 

' Nonsense, man I We'll both go, then.' 

' Don't make a noise,' said a dazed voice. 

We left that huddled figure and stole upstairs — thickly 
carpeted stairs, luckily. The door we wanted was half open, 
and the room behind it lighted. On the threshold stood a 
slim white figure, bare-footed, bare-throated. 

* What is it, father ? ' she called in a whisper. ' Whom 
have you been talking to ? ' I pushed Davies forward, but 
ha hung back. 

'Hush, don't be frightened,^ said, 'it's I, Garruthers, 
and Davies— and Davies. May we come in, just for ooe 
moment? 

Y 



8Sa THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

I gently widened the opening of the door, while she 
stepped ba4sk and pat one hand to her throat. 

' Please oome to your father/ I said. ' We are going to 
take you both to England in the '' Duldbella " — now, at 
onoe.' 

She had heard me, bat her eyes wandered to Davies. 

< I anderstand not,' she faltered, trembling and cowering 
in such toaohing bewilderment that I ooald not bear to look 
at her. 

'For Ood's sake say something, Davies,' I mattered. 

' Clara ! ' said Davies, ' will not yoa trost as f * 

I heard a little gasp from her. There was a flatter of 
laoe and cambric and she was in his arms, sobbing like a 
tired child, her little white feet between his great domsy 
sea-boots — her rose-brown cheek on his roogh jersey. 

'It's past foor, old chap,' I remarked brataUy. 'I'm 
going down to him again. No packing to speak of, mind. 
They mast be oat of this in half an hoar.' 

I stambled awkwardly on the stairs (again that tiresome 
film I) and foand him staffing some papers pell-mell into 
the stove. There were only slambering embers in it, but 
he did not seem to notice that. 

' Ton mast be dressed in half an hoar,' I said, fartively 
pocketing a pistol which lay on the table. 

' Have yoa told her ? Take her to England, yon two 
boys. I think I'll stay.' He sank into a chair again. 

'Nonsense, she won't go without yoa. Yoa mast, for 
her sake — ^in half an hoar, too.' 

I prefer to pass that half -hour lightly over. Davies left 
before me to prepare the yacht for sea, and I had to bear 
the brunt of what followed, including (as a mere episode) a 
scene with the stepmother, the memory of which rankles in 
me yet. After all, she was a sensible woman. 

As for the other two, the girl when I saw her next, in 
her short boating skirt and tam-o'-shanter, was a miracle of 
coolness and pluck. But for her I should never have got 



WE ACHIEVE OUR DOUBLE AIM 828 

Um away. And, ah I how good it was to be out in the 
wholesome rain again, hurrying to the harbour with my 
two charges, hurrying them down the greasy ladder to that 
frail atom of English soil, their first guerdon of home and 
safety. 

Our flight from the harbour was unmolested, unnoticed. 
Only the first ghastly evidences of dawn were mingling 
with the strangled moonlight, as we tacked round the pier- 
head and headed olose-reefed down the Biff Oat on the lees 
of the ebb-tide. We had to pass under the very quarter of 
the ' Blitz,' so Davies said ; for, of course, he alone was on 
deck till we reached the open sea. Day was breaking then. 
It was dead low water, and, far away to the south, between 
dun swathes of sand, I thought I saw, but probably it was 
only a fancy, two black stranded specks. Bail awash, and 
decks streaq^ng, we took the outer swell and clawed close- 
hauled^under the lee of Juist, westward, hurrying westward. 

<Up the Ems on the flood, and to Dutch Delfzyl,' I 
nrged. No, thought Davies ; it was too near Oermany, and 
there was a tidal cut through from the Buse Tief . Better 
to dodge in behind Bottum Island. So on we pressed, past 
Memmert, over the Juister Beef and the ' Gorinne's ' buried 
millions, across the two broad and yeasty mouths of the 
Ems, till Bottum, a wee lonesome wafer of an islet, the 
first of the Dutch archipelago, was close on the weather- 
bow. 

' We must get in behind that,' said Davies, ' then we 
shall be safe ; I think I know the way, but get the next 
ehart; and then take a rest, old chap. Clara and I can 
manage.' (She had been on deck most of the time, as 
capable a hand as you could wish for, better far than I in 
my present state of exhaustion.) I crawled along the 
slippery sloping planks and went below. 

' Where are we ? ' cried Dollmann, starting up from the 

fee sofa, where he seemed to have been lying in a sort of 

trance. A book, his own book, slipped from his knees, and 

y2 



814 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

I saw {he frontispAoe Ijing on the floor in a pool oi oQ; 
for the BtoT8 had gone adrift and ihe saloon was in a 
wxeiohed state of squalor and litter. 

' Off Bottom,' I said, and knelt up to find the chart 
There was a look in his eyes that I suppose I onght to haye 
understood, but I can soaroely blame myself, for the ac- 
oomnlated strain, not only of the last three days and nights, 
bat of the whole arduous month of my oroise with Davies, 
was beginning to tell on me, now that safety and success 
were at hand. I handed up the chart through the com- 
panion, and then orept into the reeling fo'o'sle and lay 
down on the spare saQ-bags, with the thunder and thump 
of the seas around and above me. 

I must quote Davies for the event that happened now ; 
for by the time I had responded to tiie alarm and climbed 
up tlm>ugh the fore-hatch, the whole tragedy was over and 
done with« 

' X oame up the oompanion,' he says, * soon after 

you went down. He held on. by the runner, and stared 
to windward at Bottum, as though he knew the place quite 
well. And then he came towards us, moving so unsteadily 
that I gave Olara the tiller and went to help him. I tried 
to make him go down again, but he wouldn't, and came afi 

* ** Give me the helm," he said, half to himself. ** Sea's 
too bad outside — there's a short cut there." 

• " Thanks," I said, « I know this one." (I don't think 
I meant to be sarcastic.) He said nothing, and settled 
himself on the counter behind us, safe enough, with his 
feet against the lee-rail, and then, to my astonishment^ 
began to talk over my shoulder jolly sensibly about the 
course, pointing out a buoy which is wrong on the chart 
(as I knew), and telling me it was wrong, and so on. Well, 
we came to the bar of the Schild and had to turn south 
for that twisty bit of beating between Bottum and Bosch 
Flat. Olara was at the jib-sheet, I had the chart and the 
tiller (you know how absent I get like that) ; there was a 



WB ACHIEVE OUB DOUBLE AIM 835 

bobble of sea, and we both had heaps io do, and — well — I 
happened to look round, and he was gone. He hadn't 
spoken for a minnte or two, but I believe the last thing I 
heard him say (I was hardly attending at the time, for we 
were in the thick of it) was something about a '' short out " 
again. He must have slipped over quietly. • • • He had 
^an ulster and big boots on.' 

We cruised about for a time, but never found him. 

That evening, after threading the maze of shoals between 
the Dutch mainland and islands, we anchored off the little 
hamlet of Ostmahom,^ gave the yacht in charge of some 
astonished fishermen, and thence by road and rail, hurry- 
ing still, guned Harlingen, and took passage on a steamer 
to London, 

From that point our personal history is of no concern to 
the outside world, and here, therefore, I bring this narrative 
to an end. 

' 8m Fiontifpieoe. 



826 THB BIDDLB OF THB SANDS 



EPILOGUE » 

BT THB BDITOB 

Air interesting dooomeni, somewhat damaged by fiie, 
on my study-table. 

It is a copy (in dpher) of a confidential memorandum 
to the Oerman Oovemment embodying a scheme for the 
invasion of England by Germany. It is nnsigned, but 
internal eyidence and the fact that it was taken by Mr. 
* Garruthers ' from the stove of the villa at Nordemey, leave 
no doubt as to its authorship. For many reasons it is out 
of the question to print the textual translation of it, as 
deciphered; but I propose to give an outline of its 
contents. 

Even this must strain discretion to its uttermost limits, 
and had I only to consider the instructed few who follow 
the trend of professional opinion on such subjects, I should 
leave the foregoing narrative to speak for itself. But, as 
was stated in the preface, our primary purpose is to reach 
everyone ; and there may be many who, in spite of able and 
authoritative warnings f requentiy uttered since these events 
occurred, are still prone to treat the German danger as an 
idle ' bogey,' and may be disposed, in this case, to imagine 
that a baseless romance has been foisted on them. 

A few persons (English as well as German) hold that 
Germany is strong enough now to meet us single-handed 
and throw an army on our shores. The memorandum 
rejects this view, deferring Isolated action for at least a 

* For this Chapter see the Frontispieoe. 



EPILOQUB 827 

decade ; and supposing, for present purposes, a ooalition of 
three Powers against Great Britain. And subsequent 
researches through the usual channels place it beyond 
dispute that this condition was relied on by the German 
Government in adopting the scheme. They realised that 
even if, owing to our widely scattered forces, they gained 
that temporary command of the North Sea which would 
be essential for a successful landing, they would inevitably 
lose it when our standing fleets were concentrated and 
our reserve ships mobilised. With its sea-communications 
eut, the prospects of the invading army would be too 
dubious. I state it in that mild way, for it seems not to 
have been held that failure was absolutely certain; and 
rightly, I think, in spite of the dogmas of the strategists ; 
for the case transcends all experience ; no man can calcu- 
late the e£fect on our delicate economic fabric of a well- 
timed, well-planned blow at the industrial heart of the 
kingdom, the great northern and midland towns, with their > 
teeming populations of peaceful wage-earners. In this 
instance, however, joint action (the occasion for which is 
perhaps not difficult to guess) was distinctly contemplated, 
and Germany's rdle in the ccMiHtion was exclusively that of 
invader. Her fleet was to be kept intact, and she herself to 
remain ostensibly neutral until the first shock was over 
and our own battle-fleets either beaten, or, the much more 
likely event, so crippled by a hard-won victory as to be 
incapable of withstanding compact and unscathed forces. ' 
Then, holding the balance of power, she would strike. 
And the blow? It was not till I read this memorandum 
that I grasped the full merits of that daring scheme, under 
which every advantage, moral, material, and geographical, 
possessed by Germany, is utilised to the utmost, and every 
disadvantage of our own turned to account against us. 

Two root principles pervade it : perfect organisation ; ^ 
perfect secrecy. Under the first head come some general 
eonsiderations. The writer (who is intimately conversant 



J._. 



8n THE BIDDLB OF THE SAMDS 

with oondiiioiii on both sidea of the North Sea) argued 
that Oermany is pre-eminently fitted to undertake an in* 
tasion of Oreat Britain. She has a great army (a men 
frMtion of which would suffice) in a state of high efficiency, 
but a useiess weapon, as against us, unless transported oyer 
^ seas. She has a peculiar genius for organisation, not only 
in elaborating minute detail, but in the grasp of a coherent 
whole. She knowstheartof givingabrain to amachine, of 
transmitting power to the uttermost cog-wheel, and at the 
same time of concentrating responsibility in a supreme 
centre. She has a small navy, but very effBotive for its 
purpose, built, trained, and manned on methodical prin- 
ciples, for defined ends, and backed by an inexhaustible 
reserve of men from her maritime conscription. She 
studies and practises co-operation between her army and 
navy. Her hands are free for offence in home waters, since she 
^ has no distant network of coveted colonies and dependencies 
on which to dissipate her defensive energies. Finally, she 
is, compared with ourselves, economically independent, 
having commercial access through her land frontiers to the 
whole of Europe. She has little to lose and much to gain. 
The writer pauses here to contrast our own situatioi?i» 
and I summarise his points. We have a small army, dis- 
persed over the whole globe, and administered on a gravdy 
defective system. We have no settled theory of national 
defence^ and no competent authority whose business it is to 
give us one. The matter is still at the stage of civilian 
controversy. Oo-operation between the army and navy 
-^^ is not stuped and practised ; much less do there ezist any 
plans, worthy of the name, for the repulse of an invasion, or 
any readiness worth considering for the prompt equipment 
and direction of our home forces to meet a sudden emer- 
gency. We have a great and, in many respects, a magni* 
fioent navy, but not great enough for the interests it insures, 
and with equally defective institutions ; not built or manned 
methodically, having an utterly inadequate reserve of men, 



J 



EPILOOUB 829 

all classes of which would be absorbed at the very outset, 
without a vestige of preparation for the enrolment of Yolun- 
teers ; distracted by the multiplicity of its functions in 
guarding our colossal empire and commerce, and con- 
spicuously lacking a brain, not merely for the smooth 
control of its own unwieldy mechanism, but for the study 
of rival aims and systems. We have no North Sea navid 
base, no North Sea fleet, and no North Sea policy. Lastly, 
we stand in a highly dangerous economical position. 

The writer then deals with the method of invasion, and 
rejects the obvious one at once, that of sending forth a fleet 
of transports from one or more of the North Sea ports. 
He combats especially the idea of making Emden (the 
nearest to our shores) the port of departure. I mention 
this because, since his own scheme was adopted, it is in- 
structive to note that Emden has been used (with caution) as 
a red herring by the inspired German press, when the subject 
was mentioned at all, and industriously dragged across 
the trail. His objections to the North Sea ports apply, he 
remarks, in reality to all schemes of invasion, whether the 
conditions be favourable or not. One is that secrecy is 
rendered impossible, and secrecy is vital. The collection 
of the transports would be known in England weeks 
before the hour was ripe for striking; for all large 
ports are cosmopolitan and swarm with potential spies. 
In Germany's case, moreover, suitable ships are none too 
plentiful, and the number. required would entail a large 
deduction from her mercantile marine. The other reason 
concerns the actual landing. This must take place in an 
open part of the east coast of England. No other objective 
is even considered. Now the difficulty of transhipping 
and landing troops by boats from transports anchored in 
deep water, in a safe, swift, and orderly fashion, on an open 
beach, is enormous. The most hastily improvised resistance 
might cause a humiliating disaster. Yet the first stage 
is the most important of all. It is imperative that the 



880 THE RIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

innuLera should seize and promptly intrench a pre-arranged 
line of country, to serve as an initial base. This once 
done, they can use other resonrces; they can bring up 
transports, land cavalry and heavy guns, pour in stores 
and advance. But unless this is done, they are impotent, 
be their sea communications never so secure. 

The only logical alternative is then propounded, to 
despatch an army of infantry with the lightest type of field 
guns in big sea-going lighters, towed by powerful but 
shallow-draught tugs, under escort of a powerful composite 
squadron of warships ; and to fling the flotilla, at high tide 
if possible, straight upon the shore. 

Such an expedition could be prepared in absolute secrecy 
by turning to account the natural features of the German 
coast. No great port was to be concerned in any way. All 
that was required was sufficient depth of water to float the 
lighters and tugs ; and this is supplied by seven insignifi- 
cant streams, issuing from the Frisian littoral, and already 
furnished with small harbours and sluice gates, with one 
exception, namely, the tidal creek at Norden ; for this, it 
appeared, was one of the chosen seven, and not, as ' Gar- 
ruthers ' supposed, Hilgenriedersiel, which, if you remember, 
he had no time to visit, and which has, in fact, no stream 
of fuiy value at all, and no harbour. All of these streams 
would have to be improved, deepened, and generally 
canalised ; ostensibly with a conmiercial end, for purposes 
of traffic with the islands, which are growing health resorts 
during a limited summer season. 

The whole expedition would be organised under seven 
distinct subdivisions, not too great a number in view of its 
cumbrous character. Seawards, the whole of the coast is 
veiled by the fringe of islands and the zone of shoals. 
Landwards, the loop of railway round the Frisian peninsula 
would form the line of communication in rear of the seven 
streams. Esens was to be the local centre of administration 
when the scheme grew to maturity, but not till then. Every 



\ 



EPILOGUE 881 

defadl for the movement of troops under the seven different 
heads m^b to be arranged for with seoreoy and exactitude, 
many months in advance, and from headquarters at Berlin. 
It was not expected that nothing would leak out, but care was 
to be taken that anything that did do so should be attributed 
to defensive measures — ^a standing feature in German 
tnobilisation being the establishment of a corps of observa- 
tion along the Frisian coast ; in fact, the same machinery 
was to be used, and its conversion for offence concealed up 
to the latest possible moment. The same precautions were 
to be taken in the preliminary work on the spot. There, 
four men only (it was calculated) need be in full possession 
of the secret. One was to represent the Imperial Navy 
(a post filled by our friend von Bruning). Another (Bohme) 
was to superintend the six canals and the construction of 
lighters. The functions of the third were twofold. He 
was to organise what I may call the local labour, that is, 
the helpers required for embarkation, the crews of the tugs, 
and, most important of all, the service of pilots for the 
navigation of the seven flotillas through the corresponding 
channels to the open sea. He must be a local man, 
thoroughly acquainted with the coast, of a social standing 
not much above the average of villagers and fishermen, and 
he must be ready when the time was ripe with lists of the 
right men for the right duties, lists to which the conscrip- 
tion authorities could, when required, give instant legal 
effect. His other function was to police the coast for spies, 
and to report anything suspicious to von Bruning, who 
would never be far away. On the whole I think that 
they found the grim Grimm a jewel for their purpose. 
^ As fourth personage, the writer designates himself, the 
promoter of the scheme, the indispensable link between the 
two nations. He undertakes to furnish reliable information 
as to the disposition of troops in England, as to the hydro- 
graphy of the coast selected for the landing, as to the 
supplies available in its vicinity, and the strategic points to 






881 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

be seized. He proposee to be gnide-iii-ohief to the ex] 
tion during transii And in the meantime {whan not 
otherwise employed) he was to reside at Nordemey, in close 
touch with the other three, and controlling the commercial 
undertakings which were to throw dust in the eyes of the 
curious. [Memmert» by the way, is not mentioned in this 
memorandum.] 

He speaks of the place 'selected for the landing/ and 
proceeds to consider this questicm in detiuL I cannot 
follow him in Ids review, deeply interesting though it is, 
and shall say at once that he reduces possible landing- 
places to two, the flats on the Essex coast between 
Foulness and Brightlingsea, and the Wash — with a dedded 
preference for the latter. Assuming that the enemy, if 
they got wind of an invasion at all, would expect transports 
to be employed, he chooses the sort of spot which they 
would be least likely to defend, and which, nevertheless, 
was suitable to the character of the flotillas, and similar to 
tile region they started from. There is such a spot on the 
Lincolnshire coast, on the north side of the Wash,^ known 
as East Holland. It is low-lying land, dyked against the 
sea, and bordered like Fiisia with sand-flats which dry off 
at low water. It is easy of access from the east, by way of 
Boston Deeps, a deep-water channel formed by a detached 
bank, called the Long Sand, lying parallel to the shore for 
ten miles. This bank makes a natural breakwater against 
the swell from the east (the only quarter to be feared) ; and 
the Deeps behind it, where there is an average depth of 
thirty-four feet at low water, would form an excellent road* 
stead for the covering squadron, whose guns would com* 
mand the shore withm easy range. It is noted in passing 
that this is just the case where German first-class battle- 
ships would have an advantage over British ships of the 
same calibre. The latter are of just too heavy a draught 
to navigate such waters without peril if, indeed, they could 

' Bee Frontispieoe. 






EPILOGUE 888 

enter this roadstead at all, for there is a bar at the mouth 
of it 191^ only thirty-one feet at high water, spring tides. 
The former, built as they were with a view to manoeuvring 
in the North Sea, are just within the margin of safety. 
' East Holland ' is within easy striking distance of the mana* 
facturing districts, a vigorous raid on which is, the writer 
urges, the true policy of an invader. He reports positively 
that there exist (in a proper military sense) no prepara- 
tions whatever to meet such an attack. ' East Hollaiid ' is 
also the nearest point on the British shores to Germany, 
excepting the coast of Norfolk ; much nearer, indeed, thu 
the Essex flats alluded to, and reached by a simple deep-sea 
passage, without any dangerous region to navigate, like the 
* mouth of the Channel and the estuary of the Thames from 
Harwich westwards. The distance is two hundred and 
forty sea-miles, west by south roughly, from Borkum 
Islwd, and two hundred and eighty from Wangeroog. 
The time estimated foi transit after the flotillas had been 
assembled outside the islands is from thirty to thirty-four 
hours. 

Embarkation is the next' topic. This could and must 
be effected in one tide. At the six sieU there was a mean 
period of two and a half hours in every twelve, during 
which the water was high enough. At Norden a rather 
longer time was available. But this should be amply 
sufficient if the machinery were in good working order and 
were punctually set in motion. High- water occurs approxi- 
mately at the same time at all seven outlets, the difference 
between the two furthest apart, Carolinensiel and Greetsieli 
being only half an hour. 

Lastly, the special risks attendant on such an expedition 
are dispassionately weighed. X ■» though keenly anxious 
to recommend his scheme, writes in no blindly sanguine 
spirii There are no modem precedents for any invasion 
in the least degree comparable to that of England by 
Germany* Any such attempt will be a hazardous experi- 



j 



884 THE BIDDLE OF THE SANDS 

meni But he argues that the advantages of his method 
outweigh the risks, and that most of the risks themselves 
would attach equally to any other method. Whatever skill 
in prediction was used, iNbd weather might overtake the 
expedition. Tes; but if transports were used, tranship^ 
ment into boats for landing would in bad weather be 
fraught with the same and a greater periL But transports 
oould stand off and wait? Delay is fatal in any case ; 
unswerving promptitude is the essence of such an enterprise. 
The lighters would be in danger of foundering? Beside 
the point ; if the end is worth gaining the risks must be 
faced. Soldiers' lives are sacrificed in tens of thousands 
on battlefields. The flotilla would be demoralised during 
transit by the assault of a few torpedo-boats? Granted; 
but the same would apply to a fleet of transports, with the 
added certainty that one lucky shot would send to ihe 
bottom ten times the number of soldiers, with less hope of 
rescue. In both cases reliance must be placed on the 
efficiency and vigilance of the escort. It is admitted, 
however, in a passage which might well make my two 
adventurers glow with triumph, that if by any mischance 
the British discovered what was afoot in good time, and 
were able to send over a swarm of light-draught boats, 
which could elude the German warships and get amongst 
the flotillas while they were still in process of leaving the 
sieU : it is admitted that in that case the expedition was 
doomed. But it is held that such an event was not to be 
feared. Beckless pluck is abundant in the British Navy, 
y but expert knowledge of the tides and shoals in these 
waters is utterly lacking. The British charts are of no 
value, and there is no evidence (he reports) that the subject 
has been studied in any way by the British Admiralty. 
Let me remark here, that I believe Mr. ' Davies's ' views, as 
expressed in the earlier chapters, when they were stiU 
among the great estuaries, are all absolutely sound. The 
* channel theory,' though it only bore incQrectly on the